


On His Mane's Secret Service

by Bluedraggy



Series: Spyjirra [3]
Category: James Bond - All Media Types, Prequel (Webcomic), The Elder Scrolls - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Furry, Khajiit - Freeform, Spy - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:28:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 29,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24032044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluedraggy/pseuds/Bluedraggy
Relationships: Dar'Amon - Relationship, Ra'Jirra - Relationship
Series: Spyjirra [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1427236





	1. Chapter 1

She stood flanked by two quite sturdy Altmer as they stood upon the open platform that began to rise on the power of Altmer magic. The wind stirred her hair as she looked up at the impossibly tall building.  
  
Magic. Only the Altmer retained enough magic to construct this building. Though it’s foundations were as solid as any other building, she could not imagine how it had ever been erected without the slowly-dwindling resource that now few but the Mer could summon. She lost count of the number of floors she had risen when the platform finally slowed. She felt a momentary panic as her weight suddenly dropped and an unreasonable feeling that the wind might sweep her off the platform to the ground below overcame her.  
  
When it stopped, one of the guards opened the door and she followed him in, the other guard right behind her. After the door was closed behind her, she involuntarily fell to her knees. She was going to be sick and nothing she could do would stop it. A hand came into view - one of the guards held a bag and she retched into it unceremoniously.  
  
“Sorry,” she said after she’d voided her stomach, and the guard produced a cup of water and a towel for her. So much for dignity. She took his hand after she’d cleaned herself up, sheathing her claws that had extended involuntarily as the other guard disposed of the bag. The guards had been through this before obviously.  
  
She stood and looked back at the glass door. The platform was gone and she realized that she was completely helpless here in the stronghold of her enemy. She could not possibly get back down without their help.  
  
“Ra’Jirra,” said a smooth voice in Ta’agra. She saw it came from a thin Altmer who had appeared without a sound.  
  
“Please come in. Sorry about the nausea. It is natural, there’s no need for shame. You get used to it eventually. How was your trip?”  
  
“Thank you,” Ra’Jirra said, following him into a large office, where she took the seat he offered her. “The trip was uneventful, though I think the blindfold was a bit much. It’s not like this building is hard to spot.”  
  
“Ah. Old traditions die hard. You are our enemy, after all.”  
  
Ra’Jirra looked at the Mer, her eyes narrowing. “I am.”  
  
“That is unfortunate. And unwise. But facts are facts. Still, you must be aware that if we wanted to kill you, the opportunities have been… legion. I am a little surprised that our request for you personally to attend was honored, frankly.”  
  
Ra’Jirra was impressed. This Altmer’s Ta’agra was flawless.  
  
“To whom do I address?” she asked, though the question was moot. Still, even among enemies, the protocols must be obeyed.  
  
“I am #1 of the Aldmeri Dominion. That is the appellation I prefer you use. But you surprise me, Ra’Jirra. I did not expect you would have diplomatic tact. Have you been trained in diplomacy too?”  
  
“I’ve picked up some of the niceties,” she replied. “Shall we get down to business?”  
  
“With pleasure,” he said. “Before his untimely demise, I believe you met with a mutual acquaintance - #4, did you not?”  
  
“I did. I didn’t expect a fortune-teller though.”  
  
“Ah. So he showed you the future, did he?”  
  
“He showed me something.”  
  
“And have you informed your superiors of that?”  
  
“I did not. Pictures on a wall. What of them? They could be anything. Anything at all. No one knows the future. Not even you Aldmeri with all of your magic.”  
  
#1 nodded, folding his hands as if in prayer in front of her. “Indeed, we cannot. The future isn’t written. But what we can do isn’t far from it. Tell me, do you have weather forecasters in Torval?”  
  
“Of course, though I wouldn’t call them forecasters. They take the weather reports from Hammerfell and predict how long the same weather will take to arrive in Elsweyr. It’s not hard.”  
  
“And are they accurate?”  
  
“Usually. Not always.”  
  
“Yes. They too cannot predict the future accurately. But they can be right more than they are wrong. That is what we can do. We can predict many things. There is a storm coming, Ra’Jirra. A storm that, if not thwarted, will destroy the Mer, the Khajiiti, and even the Argonians with their precious Hist. That storm exists, and it is coming, Ra’Jirra. To reach the outcome you were shown will take thousands of years, it is true. But it is a big storm. We play the long game here, you see. Yet single-handedly your efforts against us have cost us much.”  
  
Ra’Jirra smiled and sat back in her chair.  
  
“Are you proud of that, khajiit? Are you _PROUD_ that you have prevented our every attempt to preserve your own race as well our own?”  
  
“I am proud that I have accomplished my various missions. I don’t see your acts in Tamriel as benefitting anyone but yourselves frankly. You continuously have striven to cause division between Hammerfell and Cyrodiil. What I have done, as I see it, is to prevent war between the humans on a massive scale, saving untold thousands of lives.”  
  
“Undoubtedly you have done so, but if you saw it as we do, you would realize that those thousands of lives you saved will someday cost _tens_ of thousands of lives. MILLIONS! OF KHAJIIT LIVES!”  
  
The Altmer stood from behind his desk, his outburst causing visible flushing of his face.  
  
“So you say,” Ra’Jirra said calmly.  
  
#1 shook himself. He looked at her, then sat back down.  
  
“I have lost my composure. That is inexcusable, but please do believe me when I tell you I regret that. That is not our way. It was the downfall of my predecessor, and I do learn from others’ mistakes. I will not repeat it again.”  
  
“Thank you, Number One,” Ra’Jirra said sincerely. “I am aware that my life is in your hands. I do hope those hands are steady.”  
  
“You came to Alinor willingly. You followed all our requirements. I would not disrespect that trust. But we have reached an impasse, you and I. It boils down to belief. I believe in our prediction, Ra’Jirra. I believe in it with all my heart. You do not. Of course, you cannot comprehend the magics involved in our discovery of it. You and your kind simply don’t have the resources any longer to comprehend magic the way we do. I do not blame you for that. Even some of our fellow Mer can’t grasp it. But at the very least, trust me when i tell you that I do not just believe in this prediction. I cannot believe anything else. It is simply the truth of the future. There will be no Khajiiti, no Mer, no Argonians. Only Humans. They will take over the entirety of Mundus if something isn’t done to stop them - and soon. With every passing day that ‘something’ must be larger. Their dominance is not yet assured, but its probability increases with every day. Your own actions have increased it even more.”  
  
“I am a servant of the Mane,” Ra’Jirra said quietly.  
  
“Indeed, and a good and loyal servant. Which leads me to why I’ve asked you here today.”  
  
Ra’Jirra looked up as he stood, and she stood likewise. A declaration was imminent.  
  
“Ra’Jirra, I propose an unprecedented meeting to you today. A meeting between the doomed races of Tamriel. I would like to meet personally with the Mane, and another whom you do not know of.”  
  
“A meeting? _Directly_ with the Mane? Impossible.” Ra’Jirra said, her eyes widening.  
  
“It is possible. It _must_ be possible. Only by explaining our circumstances directly will he and one other be convinced. Perhaps our methods were ill-advised, but our goal must become his goal, or we are truly doomed. The Magic cannot last. We cannot hold against them alone.”  
  
“Who is this Other?”  
  
“It is a secret the Argonians have held for millenia. But we know better. The Argonians are not strictly a Collective as you and everyone else has been told. No, Ra’Jirra. They are secretly a Matriarchy. She is known to them, for want of a better term, as the Histess. She is their leader from behind the scenes. But we know of her. Even now we have sent a diplomat to request her presence at this historic meeting of the Mer, the Khajiiti and the Argonians.”  
  
#1 paused for effect, before continuing, “Once, your kind were allied to us. Remind your Mane of that. We request this audience with him at his own pleasure, but in the spirit of the alliance that once stood between us, he should accept. He may determine the place and time.”  
  
Ra’Jirra stood dumbfounded, before she found her voice. “You will represent the Mer? All of the Mer?”  
  
#1 nodded. “I have the authority. I do. I will bring a contingent of each, if that is acceptable to your Mane, as proof of my authority in this.”  
  
Ra’Jirra thought about it. The Mane did not grant diplomatic audience with anyone. But… it was true that the Altmer were once allies of the Khajiit. Slavers as well at other times, but…  
  
She took a deep breath. “I question if bringing me here was wise. I am an agent, not a diplomat. I’m not even sure if I can get an audience with the Mane myself!”  
  
“You are a known enemy of the Altmer…” #1 started.  
  
“Not of the Altmer. Of the Dominion,” she pointed out.  
  
“I am corrected. Of the Dominion. There is no one better to present my request to the Mane. And I think you can manage it. Ra’Jirra, our attempts to thwart the human storm have failed using our own subterfuge and tactics. It is time for a different approach.”  
  
“I hope he doesn’t accept,” Ra’Jirra said honestly.  
  
“That,” #1 smiled, “Is not your decision.”  
  
“I will take your proposal back to Elsweyr. That is all I can promise.”  
  
“And tell them what you have seen,” #1 added.  
  
“I will tell them what you have showed me. With all the scepticism I feel.”  
  
“That will suffice. It has to.”


	2. Chapter 2

Ra’Jirra walked the gangplank back to her waiting Elsweyr ship. She saw Dar’Amon waiting at the other end and smiled at him. A proper greeting had to wait until they got back to the privacy of their room, however.  
  
“So,” Dar’Amon said from her shoulder as she closed the door behind them. “What? What happened? You’re lucky to still be alive, you foolish kitten!”  
  
“Now Dar, it’s my job. Besides, if they’d just killed me outright that would look awfully bad if they’ve any hopes of any diplomatic future at all.”  
  
“I know… but…”  
  
“Aww. You were worried about me?” Ra’Jirra said, putting her gear on the floor.  
  
“Well,” the cat stammered, “Of course I was!”  
  
She picked him up and put her on her lap as she pulled out her writing instruments and began to encode a message to her boss, Em. Dar’Amon didn’t try to read it. Each agent of the HMSS had a different encoding method, and even between two as close as Ra’Jirra and Dar’Amon had become, they would never share that. She began to write. Even though she would get to Elsweyr along with the message, it was standard practice to write of any encounters like the one she’d just had as soon as possible.  
  
“Sorry Dar, but I think this is probably one of those Need To Know cases,” she said, stroking the cat.  
  
The cat sighed, and jumped up on the writing desk.  
  
“Raj, can we talk for a little bit?”  
  
Ra’Jirra looked at Dar’Amon. He had his serious face on. Even with the Alfiq body, she’d come to be able to read the face well.  
  
“Just give me a couple of minutes. This won’t take long.”  
  
The cat sighed and lay down on the table in front of her. Though in an Alfiq body for most of the time they had known each other, the moons had aligned twice since they’d met when he’d reverted to his native Cathay form for a few short days.  
  
“Raj, where do you think we’re heading?” he said as she continued writing.  
  
“To Elsweyr of course, silly,” she laughed without interrupting her work.  
  
“No. Not geographically. Romantically. You and me and our relationship, I mean.”  
  
She looked up from her paper. Dar’Amon was licking a paw nonchalantly. “I don’t know, Dar. I like you, you must know that. Why?”  
  
“And I, you. A lot. But this… thing I’ve done to myself. This body and the lycanthropy… it’s not going to go away you know.”  
  
“Gatanthropy,” she corrected. “And I know. But it’s alright. It’s not a big deal to me, Dar. You return to your normal state often enough for me.”  
  
The Alfiq head turned to look at her. “Truly?”  
  
“Yes, Dar. I’m not THAT needy, despite what you may think on based on those days!”  
  
Dar’Amon lay his head back down and she went back to writing. A few minutes later, she had finished and sealed the paper before picking up her lover and setting him on her shoulder.  
  
She set him on the bed before getting in herself. “Now what’s this all about?”  
  
“Rajirra,” he began, and she sat up. He didn’t often use her full name these days, so it probably meant it was important.  
  
“I’ve been thinking about us a lot lately. If you really are being honest with me, that this Alfiq thing doesn’t bother you...”  
  
“Dar, you’ve got to know by now it doesn’t. If you must know I’ve been ASKING Em if you can come with me on my assignments. If I didn’t want you with me, I sure wouldn’t have done that.”  
  
Dar’Amon stood up and climbed onto her lap. “Really? You’ve been asking Em for me?”  
  
Ra’Jirra rubbed his neck. “Yes Dar. I didn’t want to tell you though. But… I like being with you. A lot.”  
  
“Aw! Raj! You should have told me! I just thought he kept pawning me off on you to keep me out of their way.”  
  
“No, silly cat.”  
  
“I’m due for another moon phase next week you know…”  
  
“Are you kidding? I’ve marked it in my schedule! Dar, you know I don’t just toss around the ‘L’ word. But I think I might be in love with you. Really.”  
  
The cat walked up her chest and nuzzled her face. “Ra’Jirra, that’s so good to hear. Do me a favor would you? In my bag under the bed, there’s a black box. Would you do me a favor and bring it up here?”  
  
“Sure. Hold on…” Ra’Jirra said, picking up the cat and setting it beside her. She got down on the floor and pulled the bag out and rummaged around to find the box.  
  
“Here you go,” she said, setting it beside Dar’Amon with a mischievous smile.  
  
“RAJ! Don’t be mean. Open it for me!”  
  
She laughed and did as he asked. But then she saw what was in it and her laughter died immediately.  
  
“Is this…” she started, drawing out the jewelry.  
  
“That,” Dar’Amon said, as seriously as a small cat’s voice could be made to sound, “is an Amulet of Mara.”  
  
Ra’Jirra looked at the Alfiq in front of her, her eyes wide. A thousand thoughts crowded into her mind, all vying for primacy. This was not how she imagined this moment would come!  
  
“Dar!” she said.  
  
“You don’t have to answer right away. I honestly didn’t expect to open it at all. But, you said…”  
  
“You plan ahead, don’t you?”  
  
“Well, when you’ve only got hands a few days a month, you kinda learn to!”  
  
“Come here you cute thing!” Ra’Jirra said, lifting him bodily and planting an impressive kiss on his feline face.  
  
“Of course I do.”  
  
“You do what?!”  
  
“I’ll marry you, Dar’Amon!”  
  
“Well, that’s a relief! I hope you don’t regret it. Put it on! I want to see you wearing my Amulet.”  
  
“Hold on… I’ll be right back,” Ra’Jirra said, taking the amulet and retreating to the changing room. She emerged a minute later.  
  
“What do you think? Does it look good on me?” she asked, displaying herself in front of her fiance.  
  
“It looks… beautiful, Raj. But it appears to be magical. Apparently it makes your clothes disappear!” he laughed and she joined him on the bed.  
  
“Sorry we can’t celebrate properly,” he said, curling up atop her chest.  
  
“We have all the time in the world, Dar. We’re together, and that’s all the celebration I need.”  
  
Some time later, they awoke. The sun had set through the small porthole, and Ra’Jirra got up to dress.  
  
“Let’s go for a walk,” she said from the other room, tucking the amulet into her blouse out of sight.  
  
“Sounds like a fine idea, my bride!”  
  
“Why now?” she asked, pulling the curtain to the dressing room closed behind her.  
  
“Ra’Jirra, I have to be honest with you. I worried about you taking this mission. We all know the Dominion would prefer you out of the way. I think Em made a mistake, allowing you to go. You’re not a diplomat! But if you’re going to get yourself killed, I figured I’d better ask before that!”  
  
“Dar, you know our job is inherently dangerous. It comes with the paycheck. But it was a good plan. If you think being married to an Alfiq is physically problematic, being married to a ghost is practically impossible!”  
  
“Do you ever think about retiring?” he asked her, and she stopped, turning back.  
  
“Why? You want me to settle down and raise kittens? Making demands awfully early for having just won yourself a lifemate.”  
  
“I’m sorry. But I do worry. No one notices a cat, but you’re practically a celebrity. Someday your luck is going to run out, I’m afraid.”  
  
“I’ve thought about it. But Dar, I like what I do. I feel like I’m making a difference in the world, you know?”  
  
“I know. Me too I suppose. I just… don’t want to be married to a ghost.”  
  
“Funny thing that. I don’t particularly want to become one!” she said, opening the door. “Coming?”  
  
“Would you haunt me?” Dar’Amon asked, jumping down the bed and following her to the door for a stroll outside.  
  
“Till your dying day, cat. Now shut up. You’re not supposed to be able to talk, remember?”  
  
“Oh… yeah. I mean… meow.”


	3. Chapter 3

Em was not available when Dar’Amon and Ra’Jirra arrived at the HMSS headquarters, so she left her report with his secretary, Miss Ponsonby. Ra’Jirra and Miss Ponsonby had never been friends, but she had helped her after the Argonian affair, and she had gained a grudging respect for the surly old khajiit afterwards.  
  
“You two just go back to your room. I’ll leave your report with Em and will have someone contact you and bring you back in when he returns.”  
  
The two did as requested and spent the afternoon strolling the streets of Torval. The city had become quite crowded in recent years, with an influx of young khajiits relocating from the hard life of rural farmers and tradesmen to try and make a name for themselves in the Big City. Many of the impediments to living there had been improved as it had lost the putrid smell and congestion with advances in plumbing and sanitation. Even the crime rate had decreased significantly.  
  
The two sat on a park bench, watching the pedestrians stroll by. Dar’Amon sat on Ra’Jirra’s shoulder, whispering in her sensitive ear so that his ability to speak wasn’t discovered.  
  
“You know, this park didn’t even exist a few years ago. The Mane is really doing a good job making this city better,” he said.  
  
“Oh, I know. It’s almost unrecognizable from the place I first visited ten years ago! I heard there’s talk of deepening the docks so bigger ships can port here.”  
  
“All this change… I know it’s for the best, but sometimes…”  
  
Ra’Jirra stroked the cat’s head beside her. “It’s too much. Too soon. We barely have enough time to figure out the new ways before something even newer comes along.”  
  
“Well, what can you do? Just make do as best we can I suppose. Some things are starting to seem downright barbaric though.”  
  
They watched as one of the Mane’s concubines passed by with her retinue, dressed in the her gauzy and transparent costume.  
  
“Like that?” Ra’Jirra said when they’d passed by.  
  
“Exactly like that. Look, even in my Alfiq state, I’m as… male as the next guy. But really…”  
  
“You’re getting conservative in your old age, Dar.”  
  
“Hmph. Probably. Have you ever met the Mane?”  
  
“Me?! No. I know Em meets with him regularly, and I heard Queue had an interview with him during that Argonian thing. But no, I’ve never even been inside the Palace. I’ve seen him on the balcony during speeches of course.”  
  
“I went inside once,” Dar’Amon confided. “Not officially. I just wanted to look around. Easy thing to do when you’re a cat.”  
  
“Jeeze Dar! That’s an easy way to get yourself killed! It’s not like the guards don’t know an Alfiq from a real cat!”  
  
Dar’Amon started licking a paw. “Ah… It was shortly after they’d shut down the research that made me… this. I was pretty depressed back then, knowing that I’d be stuck this way for the rest of my life. I don’t think I was exactly suicidal, just… I didn’t care much about life anymore.”  
  
“Dar, you never told me that.”  
  
“I know. I didn’t want you to think I was crazy in the head too. But yeah. It was a hard time for me. But I got over it eventually. You kind of have to. What else can you do?”  
  
“Well, I’m glad you got over it.”  
  
“Working for the HMSS helped a lot. And Em personally. He helped me see that, even in this state, I can still do a lot of good for Elsweyr.”  
  
“So what was it like, in the Palace?”  
  
“Oh, pretty much what you’d expect. All marble floors and gold leaf. I never saw the Mane, but I can tell you their kitchens have the most excellent fish!”  
  
“I bet!”  
  
Dar nudged her ear then. “Raj. I think that’s the HMSS courier! See him?”  
  
Ra’Jirra stood up, letting Dar’Amon leap off her shoulder to the bench. The courier literally ran to them.  
  
“You are Ra’Jirra?”  
  
“I am. You’re from the HMSS?”  
  
“Yes. You’re wanted at the headquarters. Immediately. And I am to stress… immediately.”  
  
Ra’Jirra looked at Dar’Amon, then back to the courier. “Oh…kay. What’s the emergency?”  
  
“Just a Courier, Ma’am. I’ve got a wagon to take you there.”  
  
Ra’Jirra picked up Dar’ Amon and followed the Courier back. He probably knew about the Alfiq, but protocol said he was not to be treated like anything but a normal cat when in public. The wagon was driven by another man, obviously experienced in navigating traffic. They arrived back at headquarters in record time.  
  
——————  
  
“What do you mean, you didn’t think it was _important_?!”  
  
Em was angry. Angrier than Raj had ever seen him before, and she felt even worse because it was directed at her. Worse yet, he was right to be.  
  
“Look, Em, it was just magic pictures on a wall! The Altmer can conjure up anything. You know that. Just propaganda to get me to side with them.”  
  
“Damn it Raj, you have to know it was important! You’ve been trained to report the littlest of things, yet you didn’t report this?!”  
  
“I’m sorry Em.”  
  
“Raj, I know you. I know you hate the Altmer. I think you didn’t want to share anything that could show them in a positive way. That’s it, isn’t it?”  
  
“Not the Altmer,” she said, dejected. “The Dominion. They killed my friends. They killed Sarosh. They killed Ropes. Yes Em. You’re right. I should have reported it. I’m sorry, but I have come to hate them. They’re devious, cunning and dangerous. Believing anything they say is stupid!”  
  
“Ra’Jirra, that’s not your call to make. But I see now you’ve lost your detachment. Do you understand what that means? Ra’Jirra, I can no longer trust you.”  
  
She looked up at her mentor’s face. The anger was still there, but it was rapidly being overcome with a pitying look that made her eyes tear up.  
  
“No! Em…”  
  
“Ra’Jirra. I’m sorry too. But I can’t have you in the Service any longer. You’re fired.”  
  
“Em! I can change! I can be dispassionate again!”  
  
“No Ra’Jirra. You can’t. How long have we known each other? You’ve been one of my best agents. You’re not leaving with any dishonor. You are and will always be a friend to me as well, and I hope I will continue to be yours. But you are biased. For damned good reason, but the fact remains. You must leave the service. Now.”  
  
Rajirra continued to look at him. She had always looked up to the big Cathay-Raht, though that was obvious. But she knew he was a father-figure to her as well. And now he was telling her to leave the family. It hurt. She felt the tears roll down her face, making tracks like a cheetah.  
  
Em stepped close and put his arms around her. “I’m sorry, Raj. Really I am.”  
  
She accepted his embrace and returned it. “Me too Em.”  
  
“M’enji” he said, and she looked up uncomprehending through blurred eyes.  
  
“My real name.”  
  
“M’enji” she said, as if tasting the name. “You honor me.”  
  
“I do. I have many contacts in the government, Raj. If you’re interested, I can find you a good placement.”  
  
“I’m… really off the Service?”  
  
“Yes Raj.”  
  
She wiped the tears away, though they returned quickly. She looked away from him. “I’ll think about it, Em. I need some time to think.”  
  
Then she laughed, incongruously. “I was going to tell you. Dar and I… we got engaged.”  
  
“About time,” her former boss said. “Congratulations.”  
  
“He’ll be happy to hear the news.”  
  
“No he won’t, Raj. If he’s the man I think he is, he wants you to be happy. And you’re not happy. He won’t be celebrating anything today. But he may help you to understand. I am happy for you two, for what it’s worth.”  
  
“Thank you Em,” she said, walking to the door. He followed her and stopped close behind when she didn’t open it. She looked around the room, realizing it was probably the last time she would stand within it.  
  
“I’ll miss this place,” she said honestly, but her voice was returning to normal.  
  
Em said nothing but put his oversized hand on her shoulder. She touched it briefly, then opened the door to the outer office.  
  
“Miss Ponsonby,” he said with an official tone. “Please escort Ra’Jirra from the premises as soon as she’s gathered her belongings.”  
  
The secretary’s eyes grew large, and Em nodded in assurance that she’d understood correctly.  
  
Ra’Jirra left the office of the head of the HMSS, never to return.


	4. Chapter 4

Ra’Jirra didn’t tell Dar’Amon until the next morning.  
  
“I’m going over there right now and turn in my resignation,” Dar’Amon declared flatly, jumping down off the bed where Ra’Jirra lay, her eyes red.  
  
“You’ll do no such thing,” she shot back at him, anger in her voice. “Dar, I can’t tell you the specifics, but he was justified.”  
  
“That’s just not possible! You and I both know you’re the best agent they have. They’ve fired their best! Why would I want to work for an agency that would do that?”  
  
“I’m not their best, Dar. It’s the Dominion. I really hate them.”  
  
“With good cause!”  
  
“I told you Dar, it’s affecting my judgement. I thought about it seriously all day. He’s right. I can’t do this anymore. Now get back up here. You can’t open the door anyway.”  
  
The Alfiq complied to his fiance’s wishes and curled up on her stomach.  
  
“Besides, if you quit we’d both be out of a job,” she said, stroking him. “Which reminds me, when are you supposed to go back in?”  
  
He began to purr and knead her instinctively. His claws hurt a little, but she enjoyed the companionship and closeness, and never bothered to tell him. It was a minor, loving pain.  
  
“Supposed to report in tomorrow. But that was before all this. Even if I don’t quit, it’s going to be strained.”  
  
“They’ll probably send you out of town.”  
  
“Most likely. I’m always partnered with another agent. It will be weird.”  
  
“Yeah. I’ve gotten used to you being around,” she agreed. “Well, I’m not going to become a recluse. I’m going to get dressed and go out downtown. Maybe look for a job or something. And just think.”  
  
“I understand,” Dar’Amon said, recognizing that her intent was to do these things alone. She liked that about her lover. He knew when to not be there.  
  
She got up, undressed and went to the shower with Dar’Amon shadowing her. She’d gotten used to his presence by now when bathing, though she still drew the line at other bathroom functions. He enjoyed watching her. Truth be told, she thought, she rather enjoyed it herself, though social convention required that she put on an air of mild disgust.  
  
“Raj!” he said unexpectedly. “There’s someone at the door.”  
  
Ra’Jirra shut off the water. “Oh? Go see who it is while I put my hair up.”  
  
The cat left the bathroom while Ra’Jirra wrapped her hair in a towel and began to dry herself quickly.  
  
“It’s Em, Raj!” Dar said excitedly. “Maybe…”  
  
“Don’t get your hopes up, Dar. I probably left something.”  
  
“And he came to deliver it personally? Not likely.”  
  
Ra’Jirra wrapped another towel around herself and answered the door.  
  
“Hi Em. Come in. Was just getting ready.”  
  
Dar’Amon hissed at the head of the most powerful secret service in all of Tamriel.  
  
“Now Dar, I told you…” she started.  
  
Em stepped into the small apartment and Ra’Jirra closed the door behind him.  
  
“Hello Dar’Amon,” he said, smiling despite the Alfiq’s reaction.  
  
“You’ve come to ask her back, haven’t you?” Dar’Amon asked angrily. “Took you long enough to realize your mistake!”  
  
“No Dar’Amon. I’ve come for another reason. Ra’Jirra, you’ve been summoned to an audience with the Mane. Tomorrow.”  
  
“With the Mane?! Me? Why?”  
  
“I expect you know why. That proposal from the Dominion - he wants to talk to you about it. I think he wants to know what you really think.”  
  
“You already know what I think. But I’m just a field agent. The Mane wants to talk with me? Geeze Em, I don’t know anything about Royal protocol and all that stuff! I’ll make a fool of myself!”  
  
“Yes, you will. Which is another reason I’m here,” he said as she sat on the bed, her mind racing.  
  
He handed her a card with a name and an address. The address was part of the Royal Palace estate, though not the Palace itself.  
  
“This is the card of Princess Sauki, one of the Mane’s Royal Concubines. She will see you at noon today to train you in what you absolutely need to know before meeting with the Mane tomorrow.”  
  
Ra’Jirra stared at the card. “Holy shit, Em.”  
  
“I know. But the Mane is the leader of our country. When he asks for you, you come. But protocol in the Palace is pretty strict, and even more so around the Mane. Learn quickly, Raj.”  
  
“Can I take Dar with me?” she asked.  
  
“No Raj. Just you. They’ll know an Alfiq and it’s women-only in the Princess’ room today too.”  
  
Ra’Jirra literally gulped. She was not cut out for Royalty.  
  
“I’ll screw something up, Em. I know I will!”  
  
Yes, you will Raj,” he said, smiling. “But it’s been years since the last beheading for a protocol violation. Just don’t screw up too bad.”  
  
She saw Em out the door and sat back on the bed. Dar’Amon slunk up beside her and looked at the card she was staring at too.  
  
“You’ll do fine,” he said reassuringly.  
  
“I’ll fuck up. I’m a damn field agent! I’ve no experience in this sort of stuff!”  
  
“You’re not a field agent anymore, Raj. I think maybe you’d better dress a bit better than for a walk around downtown.”  
  
—————————–  
  
In fact, she wore her best outfit - a gown that she had once felt was the most beautiful gown in the world, and now she noticed every frayed thread. But she had no time, so she followed Dar’s advice and tried to not think about it.  
  
She turned the card in to the guards at the front gate of the palace and in a few minutes two women came to escort her to Princess’s wing of the Palace - actually a separate building from the Palace proper. Every woman was dressed in the transparent finery of the Royal court and she felt like she was a country rube fresh from the mud farms.  
  
“You are Ra’Jirra?” said an older khajiit lady.  
  
“I am,” she said, eyes downcast. “Princess Sauki?”  
  
“Please, don’t do that Ra’Jirra,” said the Princess, lifting Ra’Jirra’s chin up with a finger. “I have a lot to teach you today, and you’re going to have to look at me. Yes, I am Princess Sauki. But remember, I am not a member of the Royal Family. The office of Concubine is old and respected, but I’m just a commoner like you. But one who knows what you need to know before your meeting with the Mane tomorrow.”  
  
“Sorry, Princess,” she began…  
  
“And let’s stop that right now, or you’re going to be saying ‘Sorry’ all day long, Ra’Jirra. You know things I don’t know, and I know things you don’t know. The only difference between us is that you need to know things I know, and I don’t need to know things you know. Doesn’t make either better or worse, it’s just the situation. So let’s get started, shall we?”  
  
“Yes,” Ra’Jirra said, taking a deep breath. “Let’s do this.”  
  
“Mmm. Right,” said the princess, standing back away from her and appraising her.  
  
“Okay, first thing we have to do is get you fitted. No female comes to the Mane without wearing the Raba - at least, not in the palace. It is the traditional robe of office for females here, and you will wear it. Remove your clothes, Ra’Jirra.”  
  
She did so without complaint. Two tailors came in and measured her from top to bottom, even the length of her tail. When they were finished, a Raba was brought in that fit her fairly closely and, with some instruction from the Princess, she got herself into it without tearing any of the flimsy cloth.  
  
She stood in front of a mirror, the Princess behind her. The Raba was disturbingly transparent, with multiple layers of gauzy silk-like fabric. Though close-fitting in the torso, it flared at the legs and skirt with necklaces of jewelry about the bust and waist. The fabric on hers was colored in various shades of pale blue. From the jewel-encrusted belt hung two more drapings of beaded jewels that met, framing her lower abdomen in a sort of curved triangle, while a similarly draped necklace did the same, surrounding each breast. The effect was somehow more dignified than she expected though, even though her body was completely exposed visually.  
  
“Yes,” said the Princess. “Very fetching. I think the blue works well with your coloration, don’t you agree?”  
  
“I… guess. Sorry, I’m not very good with colors. But it looks good!”  
  
“For the last time, Ra’Jirra, _stop_ saying Sorry all the time! I get sick of it!”  
  
“Okay, okay! S… I mean. Yes. I will. But Princess, this slit… is it supposed to go up all this way? It’s practically to my tail! You can’t even see it when walking, but if I should bend over or something…”  
  
“Yes Ra’Jirra. That is inherent in the design and function of the Raba. Come, sit beside me. Let’s talk a moment.”  
  
She patted the seat beside her on a long cushioned couch.  
  
“Ra’Jirra, we live in a shameless Patriarchy here. We know this, yes? We have come a long way from where the society was as children, and we will continue to advance. The current Mane is a forward thinking khajiit, you will see. And yet traditions are slow to change. That is why they’re called traditions, you see?”  
  
“I know.”  
  
“The Raba, it has been in use for hundreds of years in the Palace, but its design and function remains rather obvious when you wear it. Its origins are in the bedroom, undoubtedly, though modified over the years into the Raba we have today. I think I don’t need to tell you this. Long ago, it is thought, we khajiit women were gathered into prides, like lions, all under a dominant Mane along with subservient men. If this is true or not, we cannot know, but it is clear our society is formed to mimic that myth. Many of the traditions in the Palace reflect this.”  
  
“Such as…”  
  
“For instance, when at dinner with the Mane, nothing is eaten or drank until he begins. All are subservient to the Mane. If you remember that, it is the core of all our protocols. If you break protocol, as long as you remain subservient to the Mane, it will be forgiven immediately. Now, understand, all of this is only while in the Throne Room or other public situation. Your actual interview will be in private where you can be yourself.”  
  
“Well, that’s a relief anyway!”  
  
“Honestly, it’s not so bad once you get used to it. But if you’re bothered about the slit in the Raba, I’m afraid there’s worse to come. Now, let’s talk about the Presentation. The men prostrate themselves before the presence of the Mane. Females perform a similar Presentation, but reversed…”  
  
“But that means the slit would… In front of the _Mane_?!”  
  
“That is correct, Ra’Jirra. Welcome to the center of the khajiit Patriarchy.”  
  
—————  
  
Night was falling by the time she left the Palace grounds. Her head was spinning with all the things she’d tried to learn, and she felt less ready to handle the audience than when she’d arrived.  
  
“Dar!” she called in a panicked tone as she opened the door  
  
“That bad?”  
  
“Oh Dar, I’m going to fuck up so bad! There’s a million things! I don’t think I can remember any of them!”  
  
“Well, I’ll be sure and be there at the decapitation.”  
  
“I’m serious, Dar. I spent hours there and all I can remember how to do is stick my damn tail in the air!”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Oh, never mind,” she said, plopping onto the bed. “It would just piss you off anyway.”  
  
Dar’Amon jumped up beside her head.  
  
She covered her face with her hands and began to cry. “Oh Dar, I’m serious. I’m going to embarrass myself so bad…”  
  
“You could always refuse to go.”  
  
“Sure. And get expelled to Hammerfell. They love me in Hammerfell. That would be just my luck. I’ll end up living in stinking Rihad!”  
  
“Listen to yourself, Ra’Jirra! Is this the woman who defeated the Dominion single handedly? This isn’t you. You sound like some damn scaredy cat! This Mane, he may be the leader of Elsweyr, but _you_ are one of it’s best defenders!”  
  
Hearing this from Dar’Amon stung like a slap to the face and she stared at the little Alfiq while her mind shifted gears.  
  
“You know, you’re right. Dar, I may get banished from Elsweyr, but I’m going to deal with this my way. Let me get changed, and then we’re going out! I’ve got some shopping to do!”  
  
“Um… Raj? Maybe I came off a little too harsh,” Dar’Amon said, seeing the change come over her.  
  
“Trust me,” she smiled back.


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning, as planned, Ra’Jirra left with Dar’Amon to the Palace, but had to leave him at the gate while she returned to Princess Sauki’s suite to prepare for her Presentation and meeting with the Mane. Dar’Amon assured her that he would be waiting for her, no matter how long it took.  
  
This time the tailors had a custom-fitted Raba ready for her, but she took it into a private room where she dressed alone before stepping out again.  
  
“So, how does it fit?” the Princess began, turning to Ra’Jirra as she emerged from the dressing room.  
  
“The fit is excellent, as expected. Your tailors have done a perfect job,” she said, smiling as the jaws dropped around her.  
  
“No!” the Princess said. “You can’t wear that! Take it off! Immediately!”  
  
“Sorry Princess,” Ra’Jirra said, setting her face firmly. “This is how I will be presented to the Mane.”  
  
One of the female tailors started stammering, but Ra’Jirra gave her a look that would brook no argument from the likes of her.  
  
However, the Princess’ face turned softer. “I see. Do you know what you’re doing, Ra’Jirra? This alone could get you expelled or worse.”  
  
“If so,” Ra’Jirra replied, losing her hostile tone, “I will own it. This is how I choose to wear the Raba.”  
  
“I applaud your spirit, if foolish. Then come, if you’re ready?”  
  
“I’m ready,” Ra’Jirra said, and the two walked together towards the main entrance of the Palace.  
  
Once inside, Ra’Jirra tried not to marvel at the grandeur of the place, but knew she wasn’t doing a good job. Everywhere her eyes lit there was something new, from artwork the likes of which she had never seen before, to statues of khajiits great and small. She wanted to stop and look at them further, and to discover who these were, but time did not allow.  
  
Instead she followed the Princess through the great hall and to the foyer of the throne room.  
  
“We wait here,” the Princess said, “Until our names are called. I will go first. Watch me and my Presentation and do your best to mimic it. If by chance he doesn’t immediately order the guards to take you from his presence, perhaps a good rendition of the proper Presentation will make up for… that.”  
  
“Thank you, Princess Sauki. I will do my best. It’s all I can do.”  
  
She began to get nervous and second guess what she’d done. But it was too late now, she knew. Instead she drew in a deep breath and exhaled. Whatever happened, would happen.  
  
A herald called a name. “The Princess Sauki!” he shouted, and the Princess walked in through the huge doorway. Beyond she heard many khajiit voices call the short barking noise that served as their form of polite applause at the Princess’ entrance. For a split second Ra’Jirra feared she would have to wait alone, missing the Presentation, but the herald continued, “And The Agent Ra’Jirra!”  
  
She walked into the throne room with her head held high, trying not to show fear as best she could. The Mane’s audience, standing to both sides of the great hall, began to give her the same greeting as the Princess, but one by one the applause died away and was replaced by an intake of breath as they realized what Ra’Jirra was wearing underneath the Raba.  
  
Impossibly far away, she saw the Mane - a great figure of a Cathay-Raht draped across his throne. That he was without clothing himself was no surprise. The saying went that no clothing was more Regal than his own fur, and only on rare occasions was he ever seen dressed, and then typically only in a robe fit for the ruler of a mighty nation. Even from this distance, though, Ra’Jirra couldn’t help but be impressed. He was magnificent in every way.  
  
The Princess began the long walk to the Throne and Ra’Jirra walked a few paces behind, stepping in time to the walk of the Princess, and trying to match not only her stride, but her tail movements as well. The audience had gone quiet, and she wasn’t sure if it was due to her insolence, or if this was normal.  
  
With every step, though, the Mane seemed to grow taller and Ra’Jirra lost her focus more than once. She did keep her head high, however - but without actually looking the Mane in the eyes. It wasn’t hard, other parts kept attracting her eyes anyway.  
  
After what felt like an interminable walk, the Princess finally arrived at the foot of the throne and Ra’Jirra stopped as well, bowing her head in time with the Princess. She wasn’t sure, but she felt like she was doing well.  
  
The Princess turned around, gave her a quick look, and then prostrated herself on the ground, her tail straight as an arrow towards the roof, the Raba falling away as designed.  
  
“Greetings Princess Sauki,” said an elder, grey-furred khajiit beside the Mane.  
  
The Mane’s deep voice then filled the hallway, “Rise. You are recognized.”  
  
The Princess responded as she stood and turned back towards him, “To the Mane’s Honor!”, then she walked to the side to join the other members of the audience.  
  
Then all eyes were on Ra’Jirra and she fought against the impulse to cringe. Worse than all those eyes on her were the deep blue eyes of the Mane that she had glanced at only for a split second earlier. They were now on her. For a moment she forgot what she was to do, but with a nearly imperceptible shake of her head, she focused on what was right in front of her. This Mane may be a Cathay-Raht of great size, especially when compared to her… he may hold the reigns of power over an entire nation and people… but his private parts were no different than any other. He was, all in all, still just a male khajiit - not a god, as ideal as his body may be.  
  
All this passed through her head in a split second, then she remembered her training. She stepped forward, turned around smartly, then went to her hands and knees, her tail pointing directly at the ceiling. She felt the cloth of the Raba fall away to either side, and she smiled, imagining the view the Mane was getting now.  
  
“Might as well enjoy it while you can,” she said to herself. The moment seemed to go on forever, but she had practically began to laugh when she heard the old man.  
  
“Greetings Agent Ra’Jirra!”  
  
She held her position, waiting to hear what words would come from the Mane - words that would decide the future of her life.  
  
“Rise,” came the deep voice. “You are recognized.”  
  
She stood up, knowing she was visibly shaking now and turned back to the Mane. She risked the briefest of looks at his face. The smile on it was unmistakable. She repeated the proscribed words.  
  
“To the Mane’s Honor!” she said, though she felt like she was just squeaking.  
  
She could swear she heard the Mane snort, holding back laughter of his own. Though probably no one but the Mane could have seen it, she was now glad she’d not only worn the underwear colored to match her own fur, but also added the pink heart at the most private area. She had sincerely hoped he had a sense of humor!  
  
Then she stood to the side, beside the Princess. Talking among the audience was forbidden save for applause for the other guests, and her duty was to stand as still as she could while others were introduced. Em entered sometime later, and prostrated himself before the Mane as well, but when he joined the audience he stood beside her. She looked up at him.  
  
“Damn!” he mouthed.  
  
She smiled back and shrugged.  
  
Then finally the official Presentations were over, and the audience retired to a large waiting room where they could relax while the Mane and his retinue went to his private meeting rooms.  
  
“So?” she finally was able to ask the Princess. “How’d I do?”  
  
“Well, other than the Underwear Fiasco, I’d say you did better than expected. And somehow you’re still here, so that’s a relief!”  
  
“I assume that means if I was going to be beheaded, I wouldn’t be here now?”  
  
“No, Ra;Jirra, you’ve passed the test. Though I think he liked you, or you might not be here! Wearing underwear under a Raba! Unheard of!”  
  
“Well, it’s been heard of now!” Ra’Jirra laughed.


	6. Chapter 6

It took hours before Ra’Jirra and Em were called to the private audience with the Mane. During that time, Em had introduced her to so many dignitaries and Royal personages that her mind had gone numb with the names and titles. Of course the main topic of conversation that she had to endure was her underwear, but she’d expected that. Some did not approve of course, but since the Mane had obviously approved they were in the minority - at least publicly in this setting.  
  
“So, what do you think, Em?” she asked her former boss when they managed to get some time to themselves.  
  
“Well, I suppose since I am no longer your superior, I’d have to ask if you knew the potential consequences of that. You took an awful risk, Ra’Jirra, just to make a point. I know you didn’t do it for modesty’s sake. You’ve never had a problem with that before!”  
  
“I knew the risk, Em. I just… well, to be honest I was scared. Intimidated at least. And when I get scared, I hit back, you know?”  
  
“That’s what I thought. Classic Ra’Jirra,” he said, taking a sip from his drink. “We’re going to miss you, Raj.”  
  
“Miss me? Hell, I was never at HQ for more than a few days.”  
  
And then a Cathay in a formal outfit approached them and informed them that the Mane was ready to receive them.  
  
“No protocol to worry about anymore, right?” Ra’Jirra asked Em, and he took her hand in his as they followed the man to the Mane’s private suite.  
  
“No. From here on we’re all equals. Maintain respect, of course, but no protocols to worry about.”  
  
The room they were escorted into was not large, and was draped in soft red velvet. The floor was carpeted, and fixtures in a dark wood were abundant. It was a room designed for comfort - or at least the male vision of what comfort was. A faint smell of tobacco seemed embedded into the room’s wood. She liked it. Somehow she felt like she was being allowed into an all-boy’s club.  
  
Within, the Mane sat with the older Khajiit to his right and a concubine on his left. Once their escort had left, these were the only people in the room.  
  
“Ah, Em! Glad to see you again!” the older khajiit said, rising from his seat, as did the Mane and the concubine, who added, “And Agent Ra’Jirra! What a bold one you are!”  
  
Ra’Jirra looked down at herself then back to the concubine, who was dressed similarly but without the scandalous underwear. “Thank you…”  
  
“Oh, my name is Isdra. I’m the Mane’s top concubine and confidant. He likes to have me in for important meetings.”  
  
“Well thank you, Isdra.”  
  
Suddenly the deep baritone voice of the Mane joined in, “Ra’Jirra, I presume?”  
  
She turned to look up at him. To say he towered over her wouldn’t be correct, their size difference wasn’t that great now that the intimidation factor of the Throne Room and all of it’s inherent impressiveness was gone. But he was even taller than Em and was still somewhat intimidating - not least of which because his genitalia was closer to her than his head. It took a force of will to keep from glancing at it.  
  
“I am, your Grace. But… what am I to call you? I can’t just call you ‘Mr. Mane’ can I?”  
  
“No, no no. Here, just call me Devline. And it’s time we let you in on a little secret, Ra’Jirra…”  
  
“Oh?”  
  
The big head leaned down, his breath tickling her ear, and whispered in a voice that would carry across the Great Hall.  
  
“I’m not really the Mane.”  
  
Here eyes grew wide and she looked up at him as he straightened up.  
  
“You’re not?”  
  
“Nope. That’s the Mane over there,” he said, shaking his head and indicating the graying khajiit engaged in talking with Em.  
  
“Really?” Ra’Jirra said, looking for confirmation from Isdra, who nodded back.  
  
“Yup, that’s the Mane. I’m more of a figurehead really. But they think someday I may become the real Mane, after he retires. So I attend all the important meetings like this, so I can learn his ways. And sometimes we don’t tell them.”  
  
Ra’Jirra’s world was shaken. She looked back at the khajiit that was talking to Em. He wasn’t even a Cathay! He was a Suthay-Raht. The leader of the khajiit nation of Elsweyr was a Suthay-Raht?!  
  
But Isdra was continuing, “Yes, Ra’Jirra. It’s a subterfuge that’s been going on for centuries though. The Mane must always be represented as a strong, virile Cathay-Raht male, but behind the scenes, the real Mane can be any khajiit. I’ll show you a gallery of past Manes later if you’d like. They’re not even all male!”  
  
“I…” she began, trying to understand the revelation she was hearing and unable to form the words to respond.  
  
A hand touched her back lightly, and she turned to look at the Mane. The real Mane.  
  
“Hello, Ra’Jirra,” came the gruff voice. “It is nice to meet you in person finally. I’ve been following your exploits for years, you know.”  
  
“I…,” she stammered, “I… your Grace?”  
  
“Oh,” he said with a chuckle. “That right. You wouldn’t know yet. We don’t reveal that little secret unless warranted. But just call me Mr. McTavish. It’s a little joke, but it’s been going on so long I rather like the name now.”  
  
“McTavish?” she repeated, looking up to Em, who nodded back.  
  
“Well, we’ve not got all day and there’s much to discuss, Ra’Jirra. Come, sit beside me here. About this Dominion meeting. Tell me all about it.”  
  
“Surely you’re not thinking of actually meeting with him?” she said, recalling why she was here.  
  
“Oh, we’re definitely considering it,” said Isdra, and Ra’Jirra was immediately aware that this woman was far more than a dalliance for the Mane. She was his closest adviser.  
  
“But, they’re the Dominion!” she spat back, despite herself.  
  
“Yes, and they hold the ear of nearly all the Mer in Tamriel,” the Mane pointed out. “I’ve read the official report from you, Ra’Jirra. But I want you to tell me in your own words. Start with the Argonia incident, please. It’s important to me that I hear it from you directly.”  
  
And so Ra’Jirra brought the Mane up to date on her dealings with the Dominion. Though he interrupted to ask some questions, as did Isdra and Em for that matter, for the most part the meeting was her telling them what had happened.  
  
“…and that’s it. They let me go and I returned to the ship,” she concluded.  
  
The Mane stood and began to pace, deep in thought.  
  
“They will have an angle,” Isdra said to him. “Somehow this will have to improve the lot of the Altmer and the Dominion.”  
  
“Undoubtedly,” he said. “But that doesn’t make them wrong.”  
  
He stopped in front of Ra’Jirra and looked at her directly. “Does it?”  
  
She look him in the eye. “No, it doesn’t.”  
  
He nodded and resumed his pacing. “What about this ‘Histess’? What do we know about that?”  
  
“There have long been rumors of a leader of the Argonians, but their insistence that they have no ruler but the Hist trees themselves would argue against it.”  
  
“Yet the Dominion not only tells us she exists, but also that she will attend this meeting as well. Could it be a ruse? What would the Dominion have to gain?”  
  
“I can’t see it,” Em replied.  
  
“Nor can I,” the Mane agreed. “No, I think she is real. She may not be the leader of the Argonians in our sense of the term, but it sounds like she may be able to sway the Argonians anyway.”  
  
“Perhaps she speaks with the Hist directly?” Devline’s deep voice interjected, and Ra’Jirra was glad to understand that his presence wasn’t simply as a figurehead. He was more than just a pretty body.  
  
“That would make sense,” Em agreed. “Perhaps she doesn’t make decisions, but she may be an emissary to the Hist.”  
  
Ra’Jirra was getting angry as it became clear that this meeting was going to take place. Finally she could stand it no longer.  
  
“Dammit, all of you! This is the DOMINION! They want this meeting to happen! Why are you even considering it?!”  
  
“Ra’Jirra,” the Mane said, putting a hand on her shoulder and lowering her back into her chair. “The Dominion are ruthless and always seeking a path that improves their lot. But this future they showed you… It’s not a trick. It’s real.”  
  
“Real?”  
  
“We are not totally without magic users ourselves, you know, Ra’Jirra. We have seen this future decades ago. Our race is doomed, Ra’Jirra. In fact, we do not believe the Dominion’s plans would change this destiny either. But a gathering of the Mer, Khajiit and Argonians together - that is a thing we had not considered.”  
  
Ra’Jirra’s spirit fell as his words sunk in. Doomed. The khajiit race is doomed.  
  
But the Mane continued…  
  
“Still, the Dominion is not to be trusted. We’ll need someone who knows them at the meeting. You, Ra’Jirra. You will attend.”  
  
“But, Sir,” Devline interrupted, “How can she attend? Surely attendees on a meeting like this would be limited to only the closest of confidants and advisers! We would demand it of them.”  
  
“Three, in fact,” the Mane said, continuing to pace. “Each contingent will have three members only for the real meeting. It is traditional. But yes, it is a problem.”  
  
With the last words, he’d stopped before Ra’Jirra again and she looked up at him.  
  
Beside her, Isdra spoke up, “She must become your concubine.”  
  
“That would be the traditional way to get a female khajiit into such a meeting,” Devline agreed.  
  
“What do you think, Ra’Jirra? Want to join my harem? I’m afraid it’s a lifetime assignment though.” the old khajiit smiled.  
  
Suddenly Ra’Jirra’s mind leaped to Dar’Amon. He was really not going to like this.  
  
“As my Mane wishes,” she said, bowing her head and reciting an old, schooltime phrase of patriotism, “so do I submit.”


	7. Chapter 7

When Em and Ra’Jirra left the palace, night was coming on. She had changed out of the Raba back into her normal clothes by then, but carried the priceless garment in a bag over her shoulder.  
  
She saw Dar’Amon on the wall surrounding the palace grounds and she bid Em goodnight.  
  
“What are you going to tell Dar?” Em asked her, watching the Alfiq who was looking the other way.  
  
“I don’t know yet. Everything. Gently.”  
  
“Well, good luck Raj,” he said and kissed her forehead before leaving her.  
  
“Dar!” she said, putting on a happy face.  
  
“MEOW!” Dar’Amon said, turning around with as much happiness on his face as an Alfiq could muster.  
  
She picked him up and put him on her shoulder. “Come on, let’s get back to the apartment. I have lots to tell you.”  
  
The Alfiq rubbed his cheek against hers and she suddenly felt bad again.  
  
The door to the apartment had barely closed when Dar’Amon let out his pent-up questions.  
  
“What happened? Did you wear the underwear? Was the Mane okay with it? Tell me! Tell me!”  
  
“Yes, I wore the underwear. It caused quite a stir of course, but the Mane didn’t complain, so that pretty much shut everyone down.”  
  
“Great! So, what was he like?”  
  
“Oh, pretty much what you’ve seen. Cathay-Raht in every respect. But Dar, he’s not the real Mane!”  
  
She continued to bring him up to date on the meeting, but not quite everything yet.  
  
“So, sounds like the meeting is a go then?” said the cat.  
  
“Sounds like it,” she said, not disguising her objection of it.  
  
“What’s that you brought with you?” he said, nosing the bag that held the Raba.  
  
“Oh, that’s my Raba, custom fit for me!”  
  
“They let you keep it?!”  
  
“Um… yeah.. About that…”  
  
“Let me see it on you!”  
  
“Oh Dar, that’ll just get you worked up. Maybe we should wait for the moons to align?”  
  
“Aww. No. I’ll be fine. I just want to see what you looked like in there!”  
  
“Well… okay,” Ra’Jirra said, relenting. She took the Raba into the other room and changed into it, leaving off the underwear. She knew he’d like that. Then she stepped out, her hand high on the doorframe and leaning seductively.  
  
“Hi Kitty,” she said, practically purring herself.  
  
“Oh… my!” the cat said, gathering the vision in.  
  
She smiled at that, thinking how odd it was that, even though Dar’Amon had seen her so often now in the nude, add a sheer princess’ outfit that obscures just a bit, and it was as if he’d just seen her for the first time.  
  
She crossed to the bed and put out the candle. The moonlight that filtered through the nearby window still provided plenty of illumination inside. She opened the window to let the cooling breeze in and saw him watching her every move. She did not relish the conversation that would soon come, but she knew now was the time for it.  
  
“Dar,” she said when she lay back down.  
  
The Alfiq climbed atop her stomach and lay down there, purring happily and watching her face.  
  
“Dar, they want me to be at the meeting. They know I hate the Dominion, and want my advice.”  
  
“The Mane is a smart man. He’s wise to take your counsel.”  
  
“He is. But there’s a problem. Traditionally there can only be three present at meetings of this solemnity, and only the closest advisers are allowed to be the other two.”  
  
“I don’t see the problem. You can be one of his closest advisers.”  
  
“But it has to be official advisers. Dar… He’s asked me to become one of his concubines.”  
  
Dar cocked his head to one side, not comprehending.  
  
“It’s a lifetime commitment, Dar.”  
  
Suddenly she saw the spark die in his eyes. He understood.  
  
“What did you say?” he asked, his voice quivering a little.  
  
“Dar, it’s a request from the Mane. You already know what I said.”  
  
The cat rose and stepped off her.  
  
“Well, I guess I can take the ring back…” he said, not looking at her.  
  
“Dar…”  
  
The cat leaped from the bed to the window sill.  
  
“Dar, come back,” she pleaded.  
  
He turned back to look at her and their eyes locked for a few seconds. Even in the Alfiq body, she could read those eyes. He wasn’t coming back.  
  
“I’ll see you later, Raj. I need some time to think.”  
  
She nodded and he was gone. She stepped to the window and leaned out, not caring who else might see her in the Raba. She saw his tail round the corner at the end of the hallway and he disappeared into the night.  
  
She left the window open all night long, but he did not return that night, and she fell asleep to fitful dreams of Dar’Amon, the Mane, and prince Devline.  
  
————–  
  
In the days that followed, she didn’t see Dar’Amon again, but she had been busy with meetings at the palace, both with the Mane and with other officials. The meeting with Number One of the Dominion was scheduled for the following month at the palace, and an emissary was dispatched to deliver the requirements to the Dominion. She turned down the offer to be that emissary - she wanted as little to do with them as possible.  
  
Instead, she learned a lot about the harem of the Mane. She wished she could tell Dar’Amon that it wasn’t as bad as they’d both thought at first. The real Mane was actually monogamous with Isdra and did not actually mate with his concubines. As for Devline, who in theory might have had a right as the heir, it turned out that actually his interests lay in the other gender - a fact kept very close to the inner circle of the Mane and one that had caused some consternation about his future prospects to take over the title. The real Mane had overruled those arguments however.  
  
So the concubines were actually free to take any lovers they saw fit, so long as it was kept discreet. While a marriage between Ra’Jirra and Dar’Amon would need to be kept quiet, neither the Mane nor anyone else would protest.  
  
But Dar’Amon didn’t return and Ra’Jirra asked Em about it a few days later. In fact, Dar’Amon had been sent on an assignment - at his request - and was not expected to return for weeks. Em noted that the Alfiq’s partner was another female khajiit that Ra’Jirra knew, when she asked him. Ra’Jirra knew her as a decent agent, and she seemed to be a good woman, but Ra’Jirra wasn’t in self-denial that she wasn’t bothered by it.  
  
And, of course, Dar’Amon would be returning to his Cathay form while he was away. That little detail didn’t escape her notice either. She lay awake at night often after learning that, wishing she could talk to him desperately. Finally she asked Em if she might be able to send Dar a note by way of the HMSS, which Em duly accepted, though he couldn’t say how long it would take to reach him.  
  
She had to content herself with that, but every day when she returned to the apartment, it hit her like a sledgehammer that she was alone there. Eventually, she decided to move into her own room in the palace, like most of the other concubines. At least it kept her from being alone most of the time.  
  
She did find it amusing, though, that most of the concubines now had taken to wearing underwear of their own under their Rabas. At least she’d had that small effect on the Royal culture, and she was more than a little proud of it.  
  
Then, one night after she’d retired to her room, a knock came at the door. She rose to answer it and saw the large form of Devline standing outside. While he wasn’t officially the Mane, as his heir she was technically his concubine as well.  
  
“Can I come in?” he asked  
  
“Devline? I… is this an ‘official’ call?” she asked, suddenly horrified that she might have to actually perform the traditional duty of concubines - with this huge Cathay-Raht no less!  
  
“Oh! No! No no no… I just need to talk to somebody. I think we share a problem, you and I, and I can’t really talk about it to anybody else. I think you will understand better.”  
  
“Well, I couldn’t well refuse you even if it were official! But sure, come on in. I hope you don’t take offense if I admit I was scared!”  
  
She shut the door behind him as he sat on the bed of her private room.  
  
“I understand you were in love before… this,” he said, spreading his arms wide and indicating the palace and all it entailed.  
  
Her mood swung from a bit of fear to sadness as she remembered Dar again. She had managed to put him out of her mind occasionally, but he was like a ghost, ready to leap back in at a word or a memory.  
  
“I was,” she said, choking up a bit and sitting beside Devline. “I still am.”  
  
He put his arm around her, and she felt like a child’s toy, though he was gentle as could be.  
  
“Me too,” he admitted. “I guess you know… about me by now.”  
  
“Yeah, I do.”  
  
“It’s just as hard for me, Ra’Jirra. I get to see him maybe once a week at best. How do you manage it?”  
  
She looked up at the face she’d long thought of as the Mane. It was familiar, though instead of looking like the proud face of a country, he looked smaller now. More fragile. More real.  
  
“I don’t have any choice. He’s gone. I suspect he’s found another lover since I accepted this position.”  
  
“Oh? Oh, I’m sorry Raj. Em didn’t tell me much. Though I think I may be losing my lover too. He’s getting tired of all the sneaking around and no future, you see?”  
  
Ra’Jirra nodded in sympathy. “Yeah, I can imagine.”  
  
“It’s a hard life here. Harder than I ever thought it would be. For you too I guess.”  
  
“Better than being alone,” she pointed out, and Devline nodded.  
  
“Yeah, I suppose so,” he said quietly, looking wistfully towards the window.  
  
“Devline… if you want… you can stay here with me.”  
  
“Ra’Jirra… I’m not…”  
  
“No. Just for companionship. Honest. I’m afraid my own interest is quite a bit smaller than you. But I would appreciate it.”  
  
The big head turned back to her.  
  
“Just one condition - you’ve got to wear some underwear! That thing scares me to death!” she laughed.  
  
Her laughter was infectious, and he chuckled, standing up.  
  
“Ra’Jirra, I think I’d like that. Hang on, I’ll go find something and be right back.”  
  
And she did feel better having someone beside her that night. For the first time in a long time, she slept soundly to the deep breathing of the Mane’s figurehead beside her.  
  
She never saw the cat’s face at the window when it peered in at her hours later.


	8. Chapter 8

The next days were a whirlwind of activity around the palace. For her part, Ra’Jirra mostly just tried to stay out of the way. She spent a lot of time with the other concubine princesses and found them to be significantly more industrious than her imaginings of a bunch of beautiful khajiits laying about amidst pillows, bathing and snacking on exotic foods all day.  
  
In fact, most of them had been assigned administrative duties and were quite a bit more important in the running of the countries’ major departments than she would ever have believed. At the behest of Em, Ra’Jirra herself had been tasked with assisting the local security forces and police, under the direction of the head of the Mane’s local security.  
  
She’d been surprised when she found out that the head of it was, in fact, another of the Mane’s concubines - an older khajiit woman called Lady Ree. In the early days of her tenure under Lady Ree, Ra’Jirra found herself mainly preoccupied with dashing messages back and forth from the bayside port’s security detail to the palace, but as the days counted down to the big meeting, she found herself more and more providing her own suggestions on questions of security - both the security of the Mane and the palace where the meeting would take place, but also of the emissaries’ planned housing outside the palace grounds.  
  
As much as she detested the Dominion, she still had to help provide for their security amidst the bustling throng in the city. Her knowledge of magic, however, was limited and she was pleased to have been given some training in warding by some trusted magic users who helped her to erect what magical protections they could around both the Dominion’s embassy and the hastily-commandeered house that would serve as the Histess’ dwelling should that mysterious person arrive as the Dominion claimed.  
  
At last the day arrived when the contingents from the Altmer and the Argonians were expected, though the actual meeting was still two days away. As it happened, she was on hand when the Dominion ship was spotted sailing up the bay towards the city. She frowned at the impressive, golden and mast-less galleon which was obviously propelled by magical means in a showy and grand entrance.  
  
She breathed a deep sigh of resignation and joined the delegation assigned to greet Number One and his retinue. The ship made a grand show in the Torval harbor as it sailed past the dock and wheeled about, then began to move directly sideways towards the dock, a move that was unnervingly unnatural for such a vessel.  
  
When it finally arrived at the dock and ropes were thrown, they fell into the water uncaught as haughty Altmer sailors eschewed the traditional means of anchorage and a large walkway emerged of its own accord, complete with golden handrails and steps, from which the Altmer delegates descended.  
  
Neither the Mane, nor Devline, his figurehead, would meet with these directly until the official meeting, but his prime concubine, Isdra, was the first to greet them as they arrived. Ra’Jirra stood nearby in the greeting line, dressed in the Raba as tradition dictated. She saw the tall, thin figure of Number One emerge from the ship and step down haughtily. He spied her and smiled with a nearly imperceptible nod before greeting the prime concubine and the other khajiit dignitaries.  
  
Her blood boiled, but she kept her cool externally - which wasn’t hard considering that Isdra had convinced her to leave the underwear behind this time. Yet when Number One finally greeted her, she found herself unable to sheath her claws and knew her tail was lashing uncontrollably and furiously behind her.  
  
“Ra’Jirra,” he said calmly, and she offered her hand reluctantly. He took it, not flinching from the sharp nails. She longed to extend the too-cool smile up his cheeks and down his neck with them as he ritually kissed the back of her hand.  
  
“The naked spy is more beautiful than I’d supposed! But, like the rose, the most beautiful creatures always have their spikes. Have you become the Mane’s concubine then? I had heard as much, but somehow I couldn’t imagine you… thus.”  
  
“Welcome to Elsweyr, Number One of the Dominion,” she said, dutifully ignoring his pleasantries. “We have an escort that will take you to your embassy. The meeting will begin the day after tomorrow. Until then, you are free to visit the city. However, we do require that you be escorted by a security detail that will be available outside whenever you might feel the need.”  
  
“So formal! Will you be a member of that detail?”  
  
“I sincerely hope not,” Ra’Jirra said calmly and politely. “I might not be able to guarantee your personal safety. There are those who might wish ill of you here.”  
  
“Oh? Then I should be cautious I suppose,” he said with a wry smile.  
  
“Like me,” she said, continuing her statement as politely as she could muster.  
  
The smile disappeared, but before he could come up with another witty response, she went on.  
  
“Is the Histess with you?”  
  
“No. She will be arriving shortly though… in her own… mode. I believe her delegation is no more than an hour behind us.”  
  
Ra’Jirra nodded as Number One passed on to greet the next person in line. For her part, she duly nodded and extended her hand to the rest of the Altmer until they had departed, their baggage having been transported to their embassy ahead of them.  
  
When they had gone, Ra’Jirra issued a command to a runner to deliver a message to the head of the security force assigned to the Argonians that they should expect them to arrive shortly. Then she was informed that Isdra wanted to speak with her, and she found the Mane’s prime concubine nearby.  
  
“You wanted me?”  
  
“Oh, Ra’Jirra! Yes indeed. I understand the Argonians and the Histess are due shortly. You are nearly the only person in the palace that has actually been to the Black Marsh, and I understand you speak Jel.”  
  
“Not well, I’m afraid. But yes. Passably.”  
  
“I wonder if you might know of a proper formal greeting I might give in Jel? I’ve no idea what to expect of this Histess, but most people do like to hear others speak in their native tongue. I should have thought of this before now obviously.”  
  
“Certainly!” Ra’Jirra smiled, happy to be able to assist. While Isdra might not exactly be a Queen, functionally she was as close as the khajiits had to one, so Ra’Jirra was delighted to give her a crash course in Jel.  
  
She was just finishing that, as they walked to the next pier where the Argonian ship would dock, when a shout was heard of a new ship having been spotted. They all turned to look, but were confused by exactly what it was they were seeing traveling up the bay and towards the dock.  
  
By all appearances, it was a tree, grown horizontal in the water, yet it was obvious that it had been groomed for such use. It had in no way been cut, but was a living specimen that looked as healthy as any tree on land. The limbs sprouted from only one side of the enormous, hollow trunk however, and there was no clear “top” or “bottom” of the thing, the roots apparently extending under the water line rather than from any “bottom”.  
  
Under what power of propulsion it moved, she couldn’t guess until it had come much closer. Then she realized that the leaves of the tree itself shifted purposefully - if slowly - to catch the breeze and move the thing gracefully towards the dock. However, she could see no Captain nor other means of steering. It was as if the ship itself knew where to go.  
  
When finally it came to a halt near the end of the dock, she watched in fascination as one long branch moved of its own accord down deep into the water, serving as its own anchor when it had touched the bottom far below. While this was happening, another large, flattened branch slowly lowered itself until it came to rest at the end of the dock and served as a gangway.  
  
But unlike the the Altmer ship and Number One’s large retinue, only three passengers disembarked from the amazing tree-ship. All three were female, as styled by the Argonian’s own reckoning of gender, but it was clear which was the fabled Histess. The close-fitting clothing worn by the other two seemed to be made up entirely of vines, intertwined closely and woven clearly in imitation of a elderly tree with its myriad epiphytic companions.  
  
As for the Histess herself who departed the tree-ship last, she was unmistakable. On her head she wore a wreath of sorts, green and apparently very much alive with verdant tiny leaves that sparkled almost like emeralds on her head. Below, she wore what appeared to be a thin layer of moss that continued from her feet to her shoulders and down her arms, yet the moss did not cover her breasts nor between her legs. Besides the brown of the moss and the green of her wreath-crown, the Argonian herself was a muted orange color, but her belly scales were of a green that matched her natural crown. Overall, though regal, her face looked kind and surprisingly young for what Ra’Jirra had supposed - likely little older than herself.  
  
On anyone else, the whole effect might have seemed like a bikini in reverse and been laughable - but the Argonian held herself with such regality that it didn’t even enter Ra’Jirra’s mind. This was a person the likes of which Ra’Jirra had never encountered before, and she found herself wanting to kneel in her presence as she stepped from the limb onto the dock.  
  
Ra’Jirra stood in awe of the Histess, for reasons she couldn’t quite define, but she saw Isdra step forward and recite the greeting she had been taught so recently. Yet the Histess only glanced at her, nodded, then walked on directly towards Ra’Jirra, the large orange eyes fixed apparently directly at her. Ra’Jirra felt somehow unworthy to continue looking directly at the Argonian, and found herself instead looking at the moss-covered Argonian’s feet when the Histess stopped directly in front of her.  
  
“You are her,” the Histess said enigmatically. It was not a question, just a statement.  
  
Ra’Jirra was unable to respond.  
  
“Look at me, khajiit-mother. What is your name?”  
  
As if freed from her own self-imposed stasis, Ra’Jirra looked up at the Histess. It came as a small surprise that, in fact, the Histess was not much taller than herself. Somehow she had seemed so at first. The large orange reptilian eyes that looked into hers now seemed somehow more mortal and less… godlike.  
  
“I am Ra’Jirra, Histess,” she said, not sure what etiquette was proper in this situation at first. But the answer came to her in a flash somehow. She knelt on one knee before standing again. It… felt right.  
  
“She honors you in the Argonian way!” said one of the Histess’ partners, obviously surprised herself.  
  
“Thank you, Ra’Jirra. But please, don’t call me Histess. I had a name before the Hist honored me with… all this. I know you mean well, but I think we may get to know each other much better in the next few days, khajiit-mother, and that honorific doesn’t seem right.”  
  
“Why do you call me khajiit-mother? I’ve never even been pregnant!”  
  
“No?” said the Histess, and knelt in front of Ra’Jirra, pressing the side of her head to Ra’Jirra’s lower abdomen, surprising Ra’Jirra with her instant familiarity.  
  
“Oh!” said the Histess, embracing Ra’Jirra with strong scaled hands around her back and pulling what passed for her ear even further against Ra’Jirra’s womb. Ra’Jirra let out a little squeal as the Histess lowered her ear even farther into regions perilously close to being too personal to allow, Raba or no Raba! Fortunately the Histess desisted before Ra’Jirra had a chance to protest, and stood again before her.  
  
“Oh, that is a shame,” said the Histess. “Still, you have been mated at least. Your day will come, khajiit-mother. Your tides have just not yet matched his, Ra’Jirra. The Hist is not wrong in such things. Would you accompany me? We have much to discuss!”  
  
Ra’Jirra shot a look to Isdra. This was not going as expected at all!  
  
Isdra shrugged. “Go ahead, I guess!”  
  
Ra’Jirra looked back to the odd Argonian. “Well, I suppose I can go with you, Histess.”  
  
“Good!” said the Histess happily. “Very good!”  
  
Ra’Jirra fell in beside the Histess and began to walk alongside her. She was surprised when the cool scaled hand took hers, but somehow it felt right. As much as she had begun in awe of this strange creature, she was rapidly beginning to like her.  
  
“Now then, please stop calling me Histess. Though the title is correct, my friends don’t call me that. My name is Quill-Weave, and you will be my friend while I’m here, khajiit-mother Ra’Jirra.


	9. Chapter 9

The house had been converted to serve as the first ever Argonian embassy - as far as Ra’Jirra knew, anywhere in the world. Though they were expecting a larger contingent of argonians than the three who actually arrived, it still felt cozy when they arrived. Ra’Jirra made herself useful by showing them around the place and how the various fixtures worked. Quill-Weave introduced her companions as Ereel-Na and Kassha-Na, who turned out were actually two of Quill-Weave’s sisters.  
  
At Quill’s insistence, Ra’Jirra stayed behind after the security detail left to stand guard around the house, and the three retired to a main room just inside the front door.  
  
“So, Ra’Jirra,” Quill began as she settled in between her sisters on the deep couch that had been provided, while Ra’Jirra sat to their right in a similar but smaller couch. Ra’Jirra tried to ignore her unusual clothing that left nothing to the imagination, but was finding it difficult to overlook.  
  
“Is it true that you understand Jel?”  
  
“Not well,” she admitted in that language. “It is a difficult language to learn without deep immersion in Argonia. Yet argonians seem to have a knack for learning other languages that we khajiit don’t.”  
  
“We all have our advantages and disadvantages,” said the Histess. “Our tongues are fluent in many things.”  
  
“So I understand. I had a friend who studied your physiology. He was quite impressed, especially by your tongues!”  
  
“False modesty is worse than false bravado,” Quill-Weave nodded, switching back to Ta’agra. “Linguistically we excel. Is it also true that you will be accompanying us at the meeting between your Mane and the Dominion?”  
  
“You are well informed,” Ra’Jirra said. “Yes indeed, I am honored to be one of the Mane’s concubines that will be attending. You may also know I am not… a fan of the Dominion. This is why I was invited, in fact.”  
  
Quill-Weave leaned forward at this. “Indeed, I’m afraid I must agree with you there. The Dominion’s tactics have been less than honorable. Were it up to me I would not be here. But those that I serve suggested that it would be good to come.”  
  
“They seek an alliance between us, you know,” Ra’JIrra said, not sure if this topic was off limits in this circumstance.  
  
“Yes. They see the humans as a threat. They are right, you know.”  
  
Ra’Jirra looked directly at the Histess. “I have seen their… projections. Do you agree with this prediction then? Are we all to be subsumed by the humans?”  
  
Quill-Weave laughed. “In a sense, yes. But the altmer, even with all their magic, are not omniscient. They see a moment in the future, but they cannot see all that passed before that moment. None of us can. Our lifetimes aren’t long enough to see that. It could well be that we will not survive the coming future of the humans. But only the Hist understand these things.”  
  
“Then you side with the Dominion?” Ra’Jirra asked, feeling the fur on her back tighten. She couldn’t help it. As much as she wanted to like this argonian, recalling that they had come at the behest of the Dominion rankled.  
  
“I honestly don’t know, Ra’Jirra. The Hist will let me know when it is time for me to know. However, I did not come for them, Ra’Jirra. I came for you. The Hist would like to commune with you.”  
  
“For me? I really don’t understand. I’m nobody really. I became a concubine recently. Before that I was… well, I was in covert operations - the HMSS. I’m surprised you even knew my name honestly.”  
  
“I know of you, Ra’Jirra. More importantly, the Hist know of you. But it is not for what you have been or done that I come, but for what you will do in the future. You are khajiit-mother, though you don’t know it yet. After you have met the Hist you will understand better. It is for that meeting that I have come, not a pointless alliance against the humans.”  
  
Quill-Weave leaned back then, before continuing, “But you worry so, Ra’Jirra. The burden of this decision is not yours to make. The Mane will make his decision. Yours is just to tell him what you think. That is all.”  
  
Ra’Jirra could see the truth in that, and she nodded.  
  
“Sisters,” Quill-Weave said, turning to her companions. “Will you excuse us? I’d like to talk to the khajit-mother privately.”  
  
Yet it was not the sisters that stood, but Quill-Weave, who beckoned Ra’Jirra to follow her. They climbed the stairs and walked the darkened hallway to the room at the end that Quill-Weave had established as her own private quarters. Within, the Histess lit a single, small candle, then closed the door behind her, laying upon the bed. The candle’s fragrance was odd but somehow comforting.  
  
Ra’Jirra looked around but noticed no other furniture was in the room. In the flickering shadows, Quill-Weave motioned beside her on the bed. Ra’Jirra hesitated, but then succumbed. Something about the argonian had changed in her mind, and she felt suddenly relaxed. She lay beside the Histess as if in a dream, the smell of the candle almost becoming an incense.  
  
“What do you know of the Hist, khajiit-mother?” said the soft voice beside her, as her eyes closed.  
  
“Sentient trees,” she replied drowsily. “Made the argonians…”  
  
“They are not trees,” said Quill-Weave quietly. “Though that is what they appear to be to others. But they have as much in common with trees as we do with lizards, or you with cats. Saying they are ‘sentient trees’ is like saying you are a ‘sentient cat’. Sentience defines the species, not the other way around. But their ‘sentience’ is a different form than ours. We live within the shells that are our bodies, but they… they are one yet many. Trees house them, but they are not the trees themselves. I can feel them, even now. Can you feel them, khajiit-mother?”  
  
“No… I feel only you,” Ra’Jirra said as the argonian snuggled beside her, the odd and unusually large breasts resting heavily upon her own chest. She felt them rise and fall with her deep breathing, and Ra’Jirra found herself breathing in sync.  
  
“Perhaps, somehow, you will be able to feel them,” Quill continued in her deep, quiet voice. “Do you know of Hist sap, Ra’Jirra?”  
  
“Gift of the Hist… without it argonians cannot achieve intelligence.”  
  
“Yes, indeed. We argonians envy all you other species, do you know? Without the Hist and their sap, we are by nature truly nothing more than beasts. Is it any wonder that we regard the Hist as our Creators? They are, in a very real sense, the reason we exist as more than just aquatic reptiles. The Hist have given us more than just our minds too. Our bodies they have shaped over millennia, as we would shape a house-tree. You often call our reverence for the Hist a type of religion, but it is not. A religion requires faith and belief in something unseen. The Hist are not gods, and we fully know this. But they are still that which gives the argonian life and purpose. We are their willing servants, do you see?”  
  
Ra’Jirra opened her eyes and pulled Quill-Weave close. “It must be awful for you,” she said, sympathetically.  
  
“Oh, it’s not so bad. We are not blind servants. We have complete free will, save only that our young must drink of the sap if we are to continue our race. Did you know that, long ago, we had no Hist glands? We didn’t know male from female. But the Hist, in their wisdom, knew that our race was venturing ever farther from them. We needed some way to ensure our offspring would mature properly, even without the Hist’s direct intervention. So they gave us these…”  
  
Quill hefted her Hist glands, and Ra’Jirra noticed that some of the scales had parted, revealing quite mammalian looking teats.  
  
“Now we can give birth anywhere on Nirn without fear that our children will be nothing more than animals. And in their wisdom, the Hist has made them so similar to your own milk glands that we are accepted even more so by the other races. It is a wonderful thing. It would be nice to think that the other races could accept us as equals without simple physical similarity, but it is too much to expect. Yet these serve both purposes admirably. The Hist are wiser than you know.”  
  
“Quill,” Ra’Jirra said, looking up at the reptilian face. “Am I… drugged?”  
  
“Yes, Ra’Jirra. Well, yes and no. The incense can release inhibitions, though it inspires nothing that wasn’t already being repressed. I would like to give you a gift, Ra’Jirra, but in your misplaced sense of propriety, you wouldn’t accept it. The incense will overcome that. I regret the necessity, but this is important.”  
  
“I’m in love with another, you should know,” Ra’Jirra said, her eyes fascinated by the pendulous orbs as Quill-Weave raised herself up.  
  
“Well, I should certainly hope so!” the argonian said with a laugh. “I certainly can’t impregnate you even if I wanted to! I have no such desire, silly woman. But you khajiits - you have such potential. You have native intelligence that we argonians lack. What heights, then, could the khajiit achieve if you were able to join with the Hist as we can?”  
  
The argonian shifted upwards slightly, then began to lower herself to Ra’Jirra’s open mouth.  
  
“I cannot say, but the Hist know. They have sent me to you, khajiit-mother. You will be the first, not born of the Hist, to taste of the sap. Drink. Accept this gift. I give it to you so that you may know the Hist as we do. Others before you have tried, but the sap is fruitless without the Hist’s approval. You are the first they have allowed.”  
  
Ra’Jirra nursed the sap from the Histess’ breast, hesitantly at first, but then with growing hunger and abandon, before she lapsed into a dream of colors and memories.  
  
———————-  
  
She could not say she spoke with the Hist, as the collective beings were too unlike her own understanding of consciousness to even make sense of the term. But she received understanding that she hadn’t had before, and her mind sorted the communication into a conversation when afterwards when she tried to describe it, though the actual communion was much less coherent.  
  
“You are khajiit-mother. We are the Hist.”  
  
“I am khajiit. I am not a mother.”  
  
“You are khajiit-mother, inhibited by your sense of time that is linear. We sense you are disturbed. Why are you disturbed?”  
  
“The Dominion says we are doomed. They say the khajiit will be annihilated, along with the argonians and the mer. They say only the humans will remain if we do not join together to fight them.”  
  
“All things are doomed, khajiit-mother. All things end. New things begin. Until the end of days, when no new things will begin. You know this.”  
  
She could not respond. It was beyond her conception. Instead she replied factually, “This is why I am disturbed. Will the argonians join to fight the humans?”  
  
“Our children are free to do as they choose. We do not interfere except where required. But do not be disturbed, khajiit-mother. You shall live, and your children shall live, until their time too is at an end. Events shall transpire. Unforeseen events. Time will continue, until it does not.”  
  
“I don’t understand. Is what the Dominion saw true? Will none but the humans remain?”  
  
“It may be. It may not be. Why do you worry so? The future will come and pass, as it always has. But the khajiit will continue, through you, khajiit-mother. As will our children. Others will not. The humans will not. They will remain. Behold…”  
  
What followed, she could not put into words at all. It was as if she had been given the answer, and then it had been taken away from her. She could no longer recall what that answer had been, but she knew it was going to be all right in the end. And, even without knowing the answer, she knew peace in her heart. Whatever the future brought, she had glimpsed it for a moment, and all her answers were given. She could no longer recall those answers, but her mind was clear. There were answers, and that was very reassuring.  
  
She awoke in the arms of the Histess who looked at her curiously.  
  
“You have communed long with the Hist. But you are at peace. I can see it in your eyes, khajiit-mother.”  
  
Ra’Jirra came to her senses and sat up, as if coming out of a daze. She looked at Quill-Weave. The Histess’ breasts were featureless once more, as if she had only dreamed of their change.  
  
“I…” she started. “Did I, um… Your…”  
  
“Yes, khajiit-mother. You fed of my sap, freely given. Do not be alarmed.”  
  
“Alarmed? No. I’m not alarmed, though I’m not sure why I’m not. That’s a pretty weird thing to do, after all. I mean, I’m not even your species! But… I feel better, somehow.”  
  
“Even among your kind, do you not nurse at the breast of your own mother, both male and female?”  
  
“Well, yeah. When we’re infants!”  
  
Quill-Weave smiled. “You were an infant, Ra’Jirra. You are no longer. You have awakened.”  
  
“You’re not going to agree to this alliance, are you?” Ra’Jirra asked.  
  
“I have no right to agree to anything, Ra’Jirra. I don’t speak for any other argonians. The Dominion is foolish if they think I do. I am closer to the Hist than any other of our kind, but I understand them no more than you do, and the other argonians don’t look on me as their leader even if I wanted to. I only tell them what the Hist tells me. But they mean well - for us, and now for your kind as well. Ra’Jirra, you are now of the Hist too. You may speak to them as readily as I. Probably more easily since you were conscious before you met them, unlike myself. What did you get from them? I cannot see what they have shown you. Can you tell me?”  
  
“I’m not sure myself. They are too different. But, somehow, I know it will be alright. No matter what happens here, at the meeting, and in whatever follows. They assured me of that. And I believe them.”  
  
“Good. That is my understanding as well. We, their children, don’t concern ourselves with the future much, Ra’Jirra. We only protect the Hist, and the Hist will protect us. We believe this completely, khajiit-mother. Perhaps you understand how that can be, as we do now?”  
  
“They will. Protect us, I mean… and I think there’s something I need to say at the meeting. It’s not clear yet, even in my mind, but they want me to say something to the altmer, and to the Mane. Even to you.”  
  
Quill-Weave nodded. “You will know when the time is right what to say. You have the Hist within you now.”  
  
Ra’Jirra laughed and stood up. “You make them sound like a parasite. They’re not going to control my mind are they?”  
  
Quill-Weave scoffed, “Ra’Jirra! You have met them. Do they seem as if they want to control you? Surely you know better. What you have within you now is only a means to commune with them, not some sort of mind control.”  
  
“I think so too. I don’t feel any different. But I guess I am, in a way. I’m not worried anymore.”  
  
“Good. You shouldn’t be. But it’s getting late and I expect there are some who are awaiting you that may already be concerned for your safety. Someone awaits outside. A little one who looks like a cat, but is not a cat.”  
  
“DAR!” Ra’Jirra exclaimed, her eyes going wide. “Excuse me, Quill-Weave, I’ve got to go!”


	10. Chapter 10

As she rushed out of the room and down the hall, Ra’Jirra’s mind was racing. Dar’Amon was back, but what mood would he be in? He might be here to say goodbye. And how had he found out where she was anyway?  
  
As she got to the top of the stairs, she heard voices below, and the unmistakable high-pitched voice of Dar’Amon in Alfiq form was among them.  
  
“Well,” she thought, “so much for Alfiq anonymity!”  
  
She decided to descend the stairs as calmly as she could. She would try to play it cool. But as she came down, she realized that Dar’Amon was angry and shouting - as well as he could given the limited capacity of Alfiq lungs.  
  
“Where is she, damn it?! I swear if you snakes have hurt her, I’ll…”  
  
The sound of an argonian laughing followed. “What? What will you do little cat? Scratch us to death?”  
  
Ra’Jirra saw that Quill-Weave’s two sisters were standing guard at the bottom of the stairs, not allowing Dar’Amon to pass them. And he hadn’t seen her behind them yet.  
  
“She’s a damn concubine of the Mane! You can’t keep her here!”  
  
“I told you, we’re not keeping her at all! She’s in a meeting with the Histess. Fiance or no, you’re not interrupting her.”  
  
“But that was hours ago! Look, just tell her I’m here at least. Can you do that? Otherwise I’m going right out there and tell the guards that you’re holding Ra’Jirra prisoner!”  
  
The other argonian crossed her arms and replied in a low and menacing voice, “As I understand it, Mittens, this house is an embassy, and that means you are on Argonian soil here. You may have slipped past your own guards outside, but you won’t pass us! Even your vaunted Mane has no jurisdiction here. As for being her fiance, as you just said, she’s the Mane’s concubine. How can you reconcile that, little cat?”  
  
“It’s… complicated,” Dar’Amon’s voice replied sheepishly.  
  
“It is,” Ra’Jirra spoke up. “Hello Dar.”  
  
The two argonians spun around. “Khajiit-mother. This… thing has been here demanding to see you. The Histess requested to be left alone with you.”  
  
“His name is Dar’Amon,” Ra’Jirra said, adding a touch of scorn to her voice. “And he is my fiance, concubine or no!”  
  
She turned to Dar’Amon, who now raced up the stairs and leaped into her arms.  
  
“Dar!” she said, hugging him as much as she dared.  
  
The two argonians looked at each other as if the sight had left a bad taste in their mouths.  
  
“True love knows no limits, I guess!” said one of them to the other.  
  
“Hmph!” Ra’Jirra snorted and walked between them haughtily, her nose in the air.  
  
Dar’Amon mimicked her with his own little “Hmph!” which set the two argonians giggling.  
  
She was about to open the door when the voice of Quill-Weave came from the top of the stairs.  
  
“Khajiit-mother?”  
  
“Histess,” she responded, stepping back towards the stairs to be able to see the argonian.  
  
“Will you return tomorrow? I would like to talk more with you, if you are willing.”  
  
Ra’Jirra looked down at Dar’Amon, then back to the Histess.  
  
“No, I don’t think so. My fiance has been away for quite some time. We have a lot of catching up to do. As you and the Hist have assured me, this meeting is pointless anyway. I’ll not be worried about it anymore. I’ll see you at the palace, Quill-Weave.”  
  
“Wait!” the argonian said as Ra’Jirra turned to go.  
  
She came down the stairs quickly and stepped between her sisters.  
  
“Speak to the Hist again,” she said enigmatically. “About him.”  
  
Ra’Jirra looked at Dar’Amon, who was obviously confused, then back to Quill-Weave.  
  
“I will,” she said, and then turned her back on the argonians and left the house.  
  
Outside, Dar’Amon took his accustomed place on her shoulder as she passed the khajiit guards and turned down the darkened street.  
  
“Talk to the Hist?” Dar’Amon said quietly in her ear.  
  
“Afraid I’ve got an awful lot to tell you, Dar. But first… I need to know where we stand, you and I. You’ve been gone a long time.”  
  
“Can we go back to the apartment?”  
  
“I don’t live there anymore. I have a room at the palace now. You want to come there?”  
  
“The palace? Will they let me in?”  
  
“If you’re with me they will,” Ra’Jirra assured him.  
  
“Then sure. Let’s go there, Princess.”  
  
“Hey, you don’t have to call me that! But seriously, I need to know what you’re thinking now. About us.”  
  
Dar’Amon cleared his voice, as if he had been practicing the speech he was about to make.  
  
“I’ve been back for a while, Raj. I came to visit you at the palace once, but… you weren’t alone.”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“Devline is his name, as I understand it. I thought you said he…”  
  
“He is. Dar, he stayed with me a couple of nights. Nothing happened. He was lonely and I was lonely. That’s all. What about you and your ‘partner’? Can you say the same? I know the moons aligned while you were gone.”  
  
“They did. I didn’t.”  
  
“Didn’t what?”  
  
“I didn’t sleep with her, if that’s what you’re implying. Jeeze Raj, just because I become a Cathay doesn’t mean I automatically have to bed any woman I see!”  
  
“Oh. Sorry. I… well. I didn’t know what you would do.”  
  
“She wanted to.”  
  
Ra’Jirra stopped and looked at Dar’Amon. His small cat eyes were wide and dilated in the moonlight.  
  
“Raj, I don’t care if you’re a concubine. I found I can’t stay away from you. Unless you tell me to. I shouldn’t have left.”  
  
“When have I ever even…” Ra’Jirra said, getting angry now. It was, after all, Dar’Amon who had left her.  
  
“You haven’t. But even if we can’t be married… even if you must lie with the Mane, I want to stay in your life. Somehow. If I can.”  
  
Ra’Jirra looked around. There were few people out on the streets at this time of night, but the city was never empty. She spied a bench in a small park a little way ahead.  
  
“Hold that thought, Dar,” she said as she entered the little green-space. Here, away from the torchlights of the streets, it was even darker and even the moonlight barely filtered through the leaves overhead. She sat on the bench and Dar’Amon jumped down to sit beside her.  
  
“First,” she began, “the Mane does not lay with his concubines. He is monogamous with the Prime concubine. Second, I would not be the only concubine that is married. I know of two that are married, and those are just the ones that allowed me to find out. It’s not to be public knowledge - it wouldn’t look good in this male-dominated society of ours - but the Mane doesn’t mind.”  
  
Dar’Amon was looking at her now, his eyes shining.  
  
“Are you still my fiance, Dar?”  
  
“Absolutely.”  
  
They sat in silence for a while then, just looking at each other. Finally Ra’Jirra reached down and began to pet her fiance. He purred in response and climbed onto her lap, then stretched up to touch her lips with his own, lightly.  
  
“Well. That’s settled then. Just try not to get so angsty again, okay? You don’t seem like you trust that I can love you, but I do. Do you think I’d agree to marry you if I didn’t? Dar, we need to be inseparable. We need to trust in each other, even when we’re not together.”  
  
“You’re right,” said the Alfiq. “I’ll try to do better.”  
  
“Good. Now, when is the next moon alignment anyway?”  
  
“Not for another month, according to my chart.”  
  
“Damn. A month! Well, I guess we can’t exactly celebrate, but we’re together again, right?”  
  
“Right!”  
  
“Okay, then let’s get back to my room.”  
  
“Our room?”  
  
“Our room,” she agreed, and picked him up again as they continued toward the palace grounds.  
  
“Oh, by the way, I sucked on an argonian’s boobs today!”  
  
“WHAT?!”  
  
———————-  
  
Back in her room, Ra’Jirra set Dar’Amon down on the canopied bed.  
  
“Nice place,” he said, pacing on the top of the bed while Ra’Jirra changed into a nightgown. “A little too much pink for me though.”  
  
“Well, I’m sure we can add a few masculine touches. I’ll need to tell them about you tomorrow, but tonight, I’ve just got a new pet.”  
  
“Meow!” he said as she came back to bed and climbed under the blankets. She let him in with her.  
  
“So that’s what she meant about talking to the Hist,” Dar’Amon said as he curled up next to her. “Do you know how to do it?”  
  
“Yeah. Actually I think I do.”  
  
“Wish I could do that.”  
  
“I could make arrangements with the Histess.”  
  
“From what you tell me, it would be pointless unless the Hist agreed.”  
  
“Well, I can do that then. But if they do agree, don’t you go all Scalie on me!”  
  
Dar’Amon nuzzled her chest. “I don’t think you need to worry about that.”  
  
“I’m glad you’re back, Dar,” she said quietly when he yawned.  
  
“Glad to be back. Goodnight Raj.”  
  
“Goodnight,” she said, and she closed her eyes.  
  
But she didn’t sleep. Instead she visited the new place in the back of her mind where the path to the Hist swirled. She spoke with them, as confused as that term was. And they told her something important. She communed with them long into the night, trying to grasp what they were saying. Finally, she felt she understood and left them. Then she opened her eyes and looked at the sleeping Alfiq beside her. She considered waking him, but decided against it. They had all day tomorrow, after all.


	11. Chapter 11

She woke up early and dressed quickly as Dar’Amon roused himself.  
  
“Raj? Where are you going?”  
  
“Just… stay here, will you? I’ve got something to do. I should be back before midday.”  
  
“Can I come along? It doesn’t take me long to get dressed!” he said with a cat’s smile.  
  
“Sorry Dar, not this time. But you’ll thank me if this works. Just stay here, and when the maids enter, for goodness’ sake don’t talk!”  
  
“Okay. If you say so.”  
  
She rushed out of the palace and to the headquarters of the HMSS, but at the door she was halted by the guard.  
  
“Please, I need to see Queue. Can you get him for me? Please? It’s… important!”  
  
“I’m sorry, Ra’Jirra. You know you’re not allowed in anymore,” said the guard she had known for years. “And there’s no one else here to take over for another ½ hour for me to go find him.”  
  
Ra’Jirra nervously sought for some solution, but the outer door opened before she could think of anything, and in walked Em’s secretary, Ms. Ponsonby.  
  
“Ms. Posonby! Thank goodness you’ve come. Could you do me a huge favor? I need to talk to Queue. It’s urgent!”  
  
The old khajiit squinted at her. “Ra’Jirra. I’d not thought to see you back here again. Now what’s all this nonsense about? You’re not even supposed to be in the building as an ex-agent.”  
  
Exasperated, Ra’Jirra appealed to the crotchety old cat, “I’m only a concubine of the fucking Mane now! JEEZE! Please Ms. Ponsonby! You helped me once. Just this once more!”  
  
“Why?” she asked with suspicion. “What do you want Queue for?”  
  
“I need something, and I think he’s got it in his lab.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Ms. Ponsonby! Copper chloride, if that means anything to you!”  
  
“Hmm… Well, I suppose I can ask him to come out to talk to you. On one condition.”  
  
“Anything! Just name it!”  
  
“What’s my first name?”  
  
Ra’Jirra blinked. “Your first name?”  
  
An evil smile crept across the old lady’s face. “Yeeeees, what’s my first name?”  
  
Ra’Jirra searched her memory while the smile grew larger.  
  
“Loelia!” she blurted out at a sudden insight, and the smile fell off Loelia Ponsonby’s face.  
  
“Hmpf. A good guess. I’ll go see if I can find him,” she said and turned on her heel.  
  
The guard turned back to Ra’Jirra, shaking his head.  
  
“Bitch,” she muttered, then went to sit and wait in a chair nearby. The minutes ticked by like hours, but at last the big argonian came out through the door behind the guard’s desk.  
  
“Ra’Jirra! Oh, it’s good to see you again! What did you do to Ms. Ponsonby?”  
  
Ra’Jirra hugged the argonian in greeting. “Good to see you again too, Queue. As for that… person, I just made her day, that’s all.”  
  
“Well, what can I do for you Ra’Jirra? You name it.”  
  
“I need a chemical. Copper chloride. Do you know what that is?”  
  
“Copper chloride? Ra’Jirra, I’m not a chemist. But we have some on staff of course. What on earth do you need that for?”  
  
“It’s a long story, Queue, but it’s really important!”  
  
“Well, come on back into the lab with me. I’ll ask my lead chemist if he has any of… whatever that is.”  
  
“Thanks Queue!”  
  
She looked at the guard as she passed, but he only shrugged and waved her on.  
  
“I am the head of the whole research department, after all!” Queue said when she caught up with him. “He’d better not say anything!”  
  
Within an hour, Ra’Jirra was heading back out with Queue, a bottle of blue powder in her hands.  
  
“Em won’t like it,” Queue was saying. “If it works, you’re going to cost him one of our best agents, you know.”  
  
“Em be damned, he can’t stop me!”  
  
“No, but he can browbeat me for allowing it,” Queue said as they stopped at the door, and he opened it wide for Ra’Jirra.  
  
“Come on, Queue. Em’s not that kind of boss. At least, I never thought he was.”  
  
“He’s not. Go on, Raj. And good luck! Stop by again sometime to see us though. Sometime when you’re not on a Quest.”  
  
“I will!” She said, and then turned and practically climbed up the tall argonian’s chest to give him a kiss on his cheek - if argonians can be said to have cheeks.  
  
Queue stood at the door, watching her go, and touched the spot where her lips had been. He looked at his hand, then back at the outer door where she’d left.  
  
“I’ll miss that cat,” he said to the guard.  
  
“Me too,” the guard said, looking back at the closing door. “At least you got a kiss.”  
  
Queue smiled at the guard. “Some of us have it, and some of us don’t,” he chuckled, then went back to work.  
  
—————  
  
When Ra’Jirra returned to her room, Dar’Amon was nowhere to be seen. She had a moment of panic, until the maid came in and told her about the cat they’d found in her room.  
  
“Where is he!?” she demanded so forcefully that the maid cowered before her.  
  
“I’m sorry Lady Ra’Jirra! I put him out back not five minutes ago. He’s probably still around I think.”  
  
“Oh, sorry. He’s… he’s mine. Please, show me where, would you?”  
  
She followed the maid to the back of the building, and Dar’Amon was there, stuck up in a tree while a dog barked at him from below. The Alfiq looked scared to death before he saw Ra’Jirra.  
  
“Maid, would you mind shooing that dog away while I get my cat?” Ra’Jirra asked.  
  
“Certainly!” she answered, obviously relieved that the lady’s cat hadn’t been harmed. She dragged the barking dog back to it’s kennel while Ra’Jirra caught Dar’Amon as he jumped down from the tree.  
  
“Thanks, Raj!” he said as she carried him back inside. “That dog nearly had me!”  
  
“Sorry Dar. But come with me to the main dining room. I need to light a fire.”  
  
“A fire? It’s nearly summer. You look weird. Are you feeling alright?”  
  
“You’ll see,” she smiled and was glad to see the room was currently unoccupied. It took her just a few minutes to get a nice blaze going. Then she sprinkled it with the copper chloride. Immediately the flame began to glow a fierce blue.  
  
Dar looked at her strangely. “Is that… No. It can’t be!”  
  
“Flame of the Harbinger,” Ra’Jirra smiled.  
  
The Alfiq looked at her. “How on earth…?!”  
  
“Don’t ask questions, Dar. Just approach the flame, if you want your lycanthropy to be cured.”  
  
Cautiously, he did so. Suddenly a tongue of flame lashed out and covered him in a blue glow. Ra’Jirra screamed and rushed forward, fearing that she’d managed to kill her lover, but before she got to him the glow flared brightly then disappeared. At her feet, Dar’Amon lay in Cathay form, if somewhat under-dressed for proper palace etiquette.  
  
“Dar! Dar, are you alright?” she said as she lifted his head.  
  
His eyes opened and he blinked, then looked down at himself.  
  
“I’m… back!” he said, grinning up at her.  
  
Ra’Jirra got him to his feet as two guards rushed in.  
  
“Back off, scum!” shouted one, brandishing a wicked looking spear.  
  
“No! He’s my fiance!” Ra’Jira shouted, putting herself between the spear and Dar’Amon.  
  
One of the guards looked at the other, who shrugged.  
  
“Fiance or not, he’s not allowed in the palace. Gr’alt, go fetch the Chief.”  
  
The other guard ran off, while another two guards came in, spears drawn.  
  
“She says he’s her fiance,” the first guard explained. “Don’t worry Lady, we’ll get this sorted out. Why don’t you two have a seat till then, okay?”  
  
Ra’Jirra and Dar’Amon gladly assented. A few minutes later the leader of the palace guard entered along with the prime concubine, Isdra.  
  
“What’s this all about, Lady Ra’Jirra?” she demanded. “Who is this?”  
  
Ra’Jirra rose and bowed to Isdra. “This is my fiance, Dar’Amon. He is an agent of the HMSS.”  
  
Isdra turned to the naked Cathay. “Well,” she said. “Speak up young man. How dare you enter the palace?! Fiance or not, we’ll have no mating of the Mane’s concubines here!”  
  
“No!” Dar’Amon protested. “It’s not like that! I wasn’t…”  
  
“It’s a long story, Princess Isdra,” Ra’Jirra interrupted. I’ll explain everything. You can ask Em. He’s the head of the HMSS. He’ll corroborate our story!”  
  
“I know who Em is, Ra’Jirra. Guard, go and send for him.”  
  
One of the guards left the room hastily, while three of the other concubines entered to see what all the fuss was about.  
  
By the time Em came in an hour later, Ra’Jirra and Dar’Amon had told the story twice to the prime concubine. Of course, nearly the entire harem had entered by then, leaving Dar’Amon unable to get out of his seat for modesty’s sake. Finally, when Em had corroborated their story, Isdra sent for some clothes for Dar’Amon and shooed the other concubines from the room till he was able to get dressed.  
  
“Be that as it may,” Isdra was saying, “you cannot have him in your room here. Surely you must see the sense in that.”  
  
“I do. And I won’t,” Ra’Jirra assured her. “This was… an aberration.”  
  
“All right. I’ll give him an official pass till nightfall, but by then, I don’t want to see him in the concubine’s domicile again! As for you,” she said, turning to Em, her voice magically transforming into the sweet coquette, “Thank you for coming.”  
  
Em stood, and the Princess Isdra left the room, leaving only Raj, Dar and Em.  
  
“Well hell, Dar, you still want to work for me? I’m afraid your value in our operation may have decreased somewhat, but I’ve still got work for you.”  
  
“Of course! But… maybe I could take a vacation? I’ve got a wedding to attend,” he said, squeezing Ra’Jirra’s hand.  
  
“Fair enough. I’ll see you next week then?”  
  
“And a honeymoon after that…”  
  
Em sighed, “Okay! Two weeks.”  
  
Ra’Jirra leaned on Dar’Amon’s shoulder. “It’s been a long time since I had him back in Cathay form, Em. A looooong time!”  
  
Em scrunched up his face in disgust. “Okay, okay! You’ve got the month off, Dar. You’d better not wear him out, Raj! I expect him in good condition when he gets back.”  
  
“As well as can be expected, given the circumstances,” she smiled evilly at Dar’Amon.  
  
“Enough!” Em declared, standing up. “When’s the wedding?”  
  
Ra’Jirra looked to Dar’Amon who watched her shrug.  
  
“Tomorrow’s the big meeting. How about the day after that? Too soon?”  
  
“Can’t be too soon for me, Dar,” she answered. “But it needs to be kept quiet. Concubine and all that, you know.”  
  
“Just a small group then at Mara’s chapel. Day after tomorrow. And Em?” Dar’Amon declared firmly.  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Would you mind being my Second?”  
  
Ra’Jirra got an idea at that too, “And walk me down the Aisle? I don’t have any family, you know.”  
  
“Of course. Any other requests?”  
  
“I… do have one,” Ra’Jirra replied and Em rolled his eyes. “I’d like Queue to be my second.”  
  
“Queue? Isn’t that a job for a female?”  
  
“Someday I should tell you a little something about argonians, Em,” she snickered. “But I don’t care anyway. I want Queue if I can’t have you.”  
  
“Queue it is then. Well, Good luck you two. You’ve killed my afternoon. I’ve got to get back!”  
  
They watched him go before returning to Ra’Jirra’s room.  
  
She closed the door behind them, already breaking one of the rules.  
  
“What do you think? We can celebrate now!”  
  
“You know I’d love to, Raj. But Isdra made it pretty clear she wouldn’t approve. She’s been pretty decent really. I don’t think we should.”  
  
“You’re probably right. Dammit. And I should stay here, what with the meeting coming up tomorrow.”  
  
Dar’Amon kissed her passionately, which she returned in kind.  
  
“I guess I should go find myself a room somewhere then,” he said, tearing himself away.  
  
“Do that. And see if you can think of somewhere we can honeymoon. Somewhere far away, where I can forget about all this.”  
  
“I will. I’ll be back outside the palace gates tomorrow after your meeting. Then we will celebrate for sure!”  
  
“It’s a date, lover!”


	12. Chapter 12

The morning dawned cloudy and ominous, with dark clouds looming from the west. Ra’Jirra was up with the sun’s rise and leaned out of her window, taking in the morning’s coolness, while noting the odd glow of red that underlit the clouds. The morning sun’s rays shone on them from somewhat underneath. She wished Dar’Amon was here with her, but that would have to wait till after today’s big meeting, and her wedding tomorrow.  
  
While it was true that she no longer felt the anxiety over the outcome of this meeting that she once had, she was far from feeling confident. It felt more like a situation that was out of her hands, and that no matter what happened, her vague fears of a genocide of her race were unfounded. And there was that nagging feeling that the Hist had something of their own to say, through her.  
  
She closed the window and went to the bathroom to begin her morning routine. She put on the special underwear that she’d bought specifically for this occasion - more a bodysuit really, in the same shade of blue as the translucent Raba. Once she’d carefully pulled the Raba on over it, she looked at herself in the mirror and smiled. She was happy with the look. Not as blatantly sexual as nothing at all, but something about wearing normal underwear also hadn’t felt right either. That felt like you were peeking through a dress. This, however - it was as if it was how the Raba had truly meant to be worn. The bodysuit reminded her of her climbing outfit, close fitting to the point of being a second skin, allowing her complete freedom of movement. While leaving little to the imagination, it felt right. No doubt Isdra would raise an eyebrow over it.  
  
She stepped into the sandbox and wiggled her toes. Things were going to happen today. Big things. She felt it. And like a spot of warmth in the back of her brain, she felt the Hist there, standing by and waiting to talk to her - to talk through her. They didn’t press, but they were there, calmly waiting for the proper time. It gave her an added feeling of confidence. She wasn’t alone. Outside her room two guards waited. They escorted her to the main palace where Isdra and the Mane waited. Devline too was there, along with other palace dignitaries. She saw Em speaking with someone, but she wasn’t allowed time to join them.  
  
“So, how goes life for my latest concubine, Ra’Jirra?” asked the Mane after she bowed to him. “Still setting fashion trends I see.”  
  
She looked down at herself and smiled back. “Sorry, it just felt… right. I hope I don’t offend.”  
  
Isdra, dressed traditionally in just the Raba shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a traditionalist. But I must say, that looks better than the underwear. If you’re going to have to wear something under it anyway.”  
  
“Thank you. Have the others arrived yet?”  
  
“I understand they’re on their way now,” the Mane replied. “But we will seat ourselves at the table now as the hosts. If you would join us, we’ll go in now.”  
  
Ra’Jirra, as the junior member of the triumvirate, followed them into the inner chamber last. This was a large room, though not as large as the main hall where she had been first Presented to the Mane. In the center, a large triangular conference table had been placed with her Khajiit side facing the entrance. The Mane sat in the center of course, with Isdra on his right and Ra’Jirra taking the seat on his left. She noted the symbols carved into the table for each of the races, and was pleased to see that the Argonians would sit nearest her. Their tree symbol seemed appropriate, and she wondered if it was some official insignia or just the carpenter’s whim.  
  
“I will lead the discussion for our part, Ra’Jirra,” Isdra said. “The Mane, as befits his stature, will probably not comment directly. If you have something to say, let me know with Tail-Speak and I’ll clear the way for you. Understand?”  
  
Ra’Jirra nodded.  
  
“Don’t worry too much, Ra’Jirra,” the Mane assured her. “This will be a closed-door meeting. While we will try to follow normal diplomatic protocols, there are no set rules here. The Dominion will present their case first, as the proponent of the question before us. The Argonians will follow, and then Isdra will present our introductory statement. From then on, we simply will talk.”  
  
Ra’Jirra was about to respond when a horn sounded from outside the room. The three stood, and she saw the three Argonians, with the Histess, Quill-Weave, leading as they entered the room. Isdra indicated the side of the table nearest Ra’Jirra and they took their seats, though she noted that Quill took the seat right next to Ra’Jirra rather the center seat. Perhaps the Argonians followed a different standard of order though. They had just sat down when another horn blast signalled the arrival of the Altmer, whereupon they all stood again.  
  
Number One entered with two others: a female Altmer behind him and a tall male Dunmer behind her. They took their places at their side of the table as expected, with the female to Number One’s right and the Dunmer to his left. All were naturally resplendent in gold, silver and crimson.  
  
They stood facing each other for a moment, until the guards had gone and the large entry doors were shut, whereupon all sat and the meeting began.  
  
“As hosts,” Isdra began, “we have claimed the privilege to set the agenda today. Number One, since this meeting was your proposal, I suggest you start by introducing us to the question before us.”  
  
“Indeed, Prime Concubine,” Number One said, rising in his turn and using her position as a title.  
  
Ra’Jirra had to admit, she liked the sound of it. Prime Concubine. But he was continuing…  
  
“Before we begin, please, if you would, excuse my partner Lisidra here a moment as she erects a ward of silence around the room.”  
  
The Mane nodded and Lisidra cast a spell, sending glowing runes around the chamber which embedded themselves into the very walls. When she was satisfied, she returned to the table and Number One began to speak again, though the Dunmer rose from his chair and began casting another spell. As Number One outlined the issue, the Dunmer cast the vision of the future she had seen before, and she listened only half-heartedly, though she noticed the Mane and Isdra were completely engaged with the incredible vision of the future cast in front of them.  
  
Lightly, Ra’Jirra felt the tap of a tail on her rump. She turned to see Quill-Weave eyeing her. Her tail encircled the Argonian’s own and they began to communicate silently in Tail-Speak.  
  
“Look familiar?” Quill-Weave’s tail motioned.  
  
“I’ve seen it before before,” Ra’Jirra’s tail responded.  
  
“It’s exactly the same,” the Argonian responded.  
  
Ra’Jirra renewed her focus on the images being cast. Quill-Weave was right. This was not just another vision of the same future. This was exactly the same vision she had been shown months ago on the island of the Dominion submarine.  
  
She nodded back to Quill-Weave and reached her tail behind the Mane to Isdra and requested permission to speak. However, it was denied. Isdra said they must wait for the presentation to conclude before interrupting. Ra’Jirra concurred in Tail-Speak and tried to concentrate on what Number One was saying…  
  
“We’ve shown these visions to the Argonians, as well as your Agent Ra’Jirra,” he was finishing. “As we’ve explained already, they are not a guarantee of the future, but they are the most likely outcome if we do not take action. Already the Humans are advancing beyond what you or we can match. You Khajiits are clever, I freely admit, with your adaptations of the Human technology. You are quick to grasp and revise their inventions. But you do not create technology yourselves as the Humans do. As for the Argonians, you appear to shun technology completely, preferring agriculture to clockwork gears, fuel and engines. Surely you must see the danger inherent in this. Even without these visions, the future looks bleak for our species on Nirn. The Humans will continue to advance, and we will fade into obscurity and eventual extinction. The time has come to act.”  
  
“As for us in the Dominion, we have striven to do so on our own, trying to sew discontent between the Hammerfell and Cyrodiil factions, and we have had some success doing so - despite some interference.”  
  
At that, he smiled directly at Ra’Jirra who nodded in agreement, smiling back even more easily. She was rather proud of her “interference”. But Number One was finishing up.  
  
“By pitting Human against Human, we had hoped they would assist in mutually assured destruction and allow the world of Nirn to return to its former glory days from before all this technology advancement began. We therefore had to use less than scrupulous methods, admittedly, but without doing so the Humans would have seen their true enemy and refocused on us. As the last of the skilled magic users on Tamriel, we and our bretheren the Dunmer, Bosmer and other Mer are best positioned to be able to fight the ever growing menace of the Humans, but we cannot do it alone. We need your help. And that is the crux of this meeting. Will you help us, militarily or otherwise, to bring the Humans and their vaunted ‘technology’ to heel? Will you save the future for your own posterity by joining us? Or will you slowly fade into irrelevancy, obscurity, subjugation and extinction under the yoke of the Humans?”  
  
With that, the vision faded and Number One sat back down, the Dunmer taking his seat again.  
  
The room was silent. The Mane and Isdra had not seen the vision directly before, and seeing it firsthand - so lifelike before them that they could nearly touch it - was a powerful experience, Ra’Jirra knew well. It had affected her similarly once.  
  
Isdra stood. “Thank you, Number One of the Dominion. You have stated your case well. Next I would like to call on the Histess of Argonia to speak. What is your opinion of what you have seen, Quill-Weave?”  
  
Beside her, Ra’Jirra watched the Argonian stand proudly and clear her throat.  
  
“I thank you for inviting me to these proceedings, Mane of the Khajiit. This is truly an historic meeting between our kind. A meeting of equals, rather than one race lording over the others,” Quill-Weave began, with an eye to the Dunmer.  
  
Ra’Jirra didn’t fail to understand the meaning, the Dunmer having once enslaved the Argonians. But Quill-Weave continued.  
  
“However, I fear you are all under a mistaken impression of my role in Argonian society. Though it’s true that we hid the role of Histess from the outside world for thousands of years, yet I am not in any way a ruler of my kind. I am, in a real sense, merely an interpreter of the Hist. I will certainly tell those back in Argonia all we say and do here, and they will listen to me, but they are under no obligation to follow my recommendation - for that is all I can possibly provide.”  
  
Number One was about to interrupt, but Isdra motioned for him to sit back down, and he did so while Quill-Weave continued.  
  
“But as to the Question, my personal feelings on it are ambivalent. I represent life, as does the Hist. Life has no fondness for war, and surely it is war you propose. Yet on the other hand, this technology as styled by the Humans raises much concern for us. We are not blind to their progress and encroachment on our beloved homeland. Even now as they grow in number, they begin to create settlements ever closer to our borders. War may well come. There is a growing restlessness among our kind. Surely some will agree with your assessment. In fact, they already do. Your demonstration was most impressive.”  
  
“But you, Histess,” Isdra interrupted. “What are your thoughts?”  
  
“I follow the Hist in all things, Prime Concubine Isdra. If you knew them as I do, you would understand.”  
  
“And what does the Hist say?” Isdra asked.  
  
Quill-Weave looked at Ra’Jirra when she replied. “It is not given to me to speak for the Hist in this matter. I was given a different task by them when I agreed to come here. That task has already been accomplished. Now I watch events transpire, and will report back to my kind - if I survive.”  
  
“If you survive?!” Ra’Jirra blurted out, suddenly forgetting her circumstances. “What do you mean?”  
  
“Ra’Jirra!” Isdra scolded her. “Please do not interrupt. You will be given your turn to speak at the proper time!”  
  
Ra’Jirra sat back, chagrined and nodded.  
  
“Is that all you have to say, Histess?”  
  
“For now, yes,” said Quill-Weave, and resumed her seat.  
  
“Then it is time for the Khajiit to speak,” Isdra said, standing. “You give us much to contemplate, Number One of the Dominion. But we have questions of our own. I would like to start with a simple one. What is your goal in this meeting? Is it a declaration of war you would have us sign? How do you envision our role, should we agree to this… alliance?”  
  
“Each of our races,” Number One responded, rising to answer officially, “has their own special gifts. We should use those gifts to the fullest. The Khajiit are unequalled in the art of, shall we say, surreptitious knowledge. Indeed, before us here you bring one of the most talented of those agents you are known for. Yet she has been removed from that post. That is a mistake we would have remedied. No, we would not expect, nor even request, any outright declaration against the Humans. Instead, we would hope that you would direct your agencies efforts against them instead of us. Let us know what they are planning. Stop thwarting us in our own machinations against them. And provide us with your own derivative technology, so that it might be used against them. But the time will come when warriors are needed. When that time comes, the unleashed fury of the beas… I mean, tailed races would be unstoppable.”  
  
Ra’Jirra snorted derisively at the faux-pas. Yet she was surprised to hear that Number One was actually supporting her return to the HMSS. Maybe she had misjudged him?  
  
“I see,” Isdra said as Number One resumed his seat. “Do you still call us Beasts then?”  
  
“We may,” said Number One standing again and, realizing he had committed a blunder. “I will not deny some of us do. Others have come to respect both the Khajiit and Argonians as equals. We would not come to you as we have otherwise. Surely you must know we - just the three of us - could bring the walls of this palace crashing down with magic if we so desired. But we do not. We are here to request - no, to ask you to consider joining us as equal partners, bringing your own talents to join ours.”  
  
“Racism is a thing we all must deal with,” Isdra nodded. “We are not immune ourselves. You answer honestly, and that is commendable. All know of the Altmer disdain for the other races, but we have plenty who feel our own racial superiority. That you come to us thusly as equals, having accepted our requirements, speaks well of your intentions. But now I must ask a single, simple question of the Histess.”  
  
Number One retook his seat while Quill-Weave rose again. “Yes?”  
  
“The Hist are unknown to us, Histess. But we gather they have their own sense of things that we do not. For my part, I do not question their existence, even if I don’t understand them. I have just one question of them, through you, if you can answer it.”  
  
“I will answer to the best of my ability and in all candor,” Quill-Weave said.  
  
“The visions that we have seen today, they are impressive and extremely worrisome. You have seen them some time ago already, and have surely consulted with your Hist. My question is this - is what we have seen true? Will this future come to pass if we do not join this alliance?”  
  
Quill-Weave closed her eyes, and Ra’Jirra knew exactly what she was doing. She was speaking with the Hist. She stood as a statue for a full minute before opening her eyes again.  
  
“The Hist does not doubt it’s veracity. In fact, they guarantees it is truth. They not only believe that this future will come to pass, they believe it is inevitable - regardless of our actions here today or in the future. What you have seen, though millenia away, is not in doubt.”


	13. Chapter 13

“There,” Number One said triumphantly. “Even the Argonians recognize the truth of the future we have seen, even if they don’t believe in our ability to affect it. Surely now you can see the wisdom of this alliance?”  
  
The Mane whispered something to Isdra, who addressed the meeting next.  
  
“We would like a moment to consult privately, honored guests. Perhaps five minutes?”  
  
Ra’Jirra stood, interrupting and knowingly breaking protocol.  
  
“Wait one moment. I have one question first,” she began. She could feel the eyes of Isdra on her, but she ignored her for the moment.  
  
“The images we just saw here… This is exactly what I was shown before. Why is that? Can you see another scene from this future?”  
  
The Altmer murmured among themselves before Number One gave his answer.  
  
“One of our greatest mages was able to pierce the veil of time to bring us the images you saw. It was his life’s work to do so, and brought that to us some years past. Only our greatest magic users are able to reproduce that summoning at substantial cost, but we have not yet been able to fathom much of what goes into the magic - just to reproduce it. Unfortunately the mage has been lost to us since. Until we can fully understand how it is done, this is all we are able to produce visually.”  
  
“So,” Ra’Jirra continued, ignoring protests by Isdra, “what we have seen may just be one part of a wider world. It could be that Tamriel has become segregated in this future. Would you not concede that there could be many explanations for this vision beyond all our kin having been wiped out?”  
  
Number One became visibly incensed, responding with an increasing vehemence, “The visuals we have shown you here are not our only evidence of our impending extinction, young Khajiit. They are simply the easiest method of exhibiting that doom to others who do not know the way of scrying such things. But the signs are there, be assured! They are obvious, if you look for them!”  
  
Ra’Jirra may have been stung a bit by the ‘young Khajiit’ reference, but she sat back down, having made her point. She felt it was important to sew some doubt in the Mane’s eyes after the Argonians and the Hist had seemingly reinforced the Altmer’s interpretation.  
  
“Thank you, Number One,” Isdra concluded. “Let us confer privately then - but please let us remain inside the conference room. Our meeting here must come to some decision on this matter, and do so today, we are agreed. Such a meeting of our races cannot be assumed to be something that can become commonplace.”  
  
“Agreed, Prime Concubine. We do not request specifics in this meeting, but the Mer are a proud people. We do not look for alliances from other races on a whim. We expect not to be clear on our actions yet moving forward, but we do expect a resolution to be made that such action is necessary and that we can all agree on its objectives. This is the time, and this meeting cannot end without a resolution, one way or the other.”  
  
With that, the three Khajiits rose and adjourned to a small area far from the center conference table where they spoke quietly in Ta’agra.  
  
“You will not interrupt me again, Ra’Jirra,” Isdra said sweetly but with menace in her voice when they sat down.  
  
Ra’Jirra began to offer her apology, but the Mane interrupted. “Now Isdra, I wanted Ra’Jirra here specifically to offer her insights, and she made a good one - one which, by the way, no one else could have noticed I’ll point out.”  
  
“Still, decorum demands…” Isdra responded irritably.  
  
“Decorum be damned. She’s here to speak her mind. I won’t have her be silenced by decorum.”  
  
Isdra nodded, chagrined.  
  
“That being said, I still have to lean towards agreeing with the Altmer. Racial politics aside, we’ve had our own suspicions that our future is in jeopardy. Of all the intelligent races of Tamriel, ours is the the most fragile. Ra’Jirra, let’s assume for a moment that their argument is valid. Would you have us go the way of our brothers the Lilmothiit, without a fight, only because one of our allies is headed by the Dominion?”  
  
“Interesting you bring the Lilmothiit up,” Ra’Jirra replied. “considering it was most likely the Argonians that wiped them out. No, no need to argue. I like the Argonians. They don’t meddle in others’ affairs for the most part. But I just don’t see any way to stop the Humans’ advances. Honestly the civil war between Hammerfell and Cyrodiil is probably the best way. However, I just can’t in all conscience agree to assist in slaughtering millions of innocents just because they are too successful! Whatever the future holds for us, unless the Humans are actively trying to massacre us, I can’t rectify such actions as being… well… Good.”  
  
“I understand, young Khajiit. But in my position, you must accept that sometimes you must act against common morality for the well-being of your people. I’m afraid this may be one of those times. I see my purpose as just this - to safeguard Elsweyr and the whole of the Khajiit race, and this is exactly the threat I need to recognize. And if we make this agreement, we need not get directly involved in a war, after all.”  
  
“Just facilitate it,” Ra’Jirra muttered, but she recognized the truth of what the Mane said. She realized just how much she would hate to wield such power. Decisions this man made, for good or ill, would change history, and he had to make them with insufficient information every day.  
  
The three rose and resumed their place at the table. The Altmer too returned from where they had been conferring, though the Argonians hadn’t left the table at all.  
  
Once they had all sat back down, Isdra began again. “Histess, have you - or the Hist - anything to add concerning the question of this future? Is the vision just a local thing, or does this future portend our extinction?”  
  
The Histess rose, and began to pace around the table, all eyes following her.  
  
“The future they see is the future the Hist expects to pass. In it, no Khajiit, Mer or Argonian will inhabit the entirety of Nirn. The vision is not mistaken, nor just a local scene.”  
  
She stopped at a window, seemingly daydreaming as she looked up at the clouds beyond.  
  
“The Hist have more to say, but it is not my place to utter it. I see them only dimly, and I am the best suited for my role of my kind. We hold onto intelligence so fiercely, compared to you, because we know what it is not to have it. The Hist have been so kind to us, and we will never be grateful enough. But to you, who come by intelligence naturally… You could commune with them so much more clearly than we can. We will always be their servants, as long as they will have us. But you… you may become their equals someday.”  
  
She had turned around and was looking directly at Ra’Jirra now.  
  
Number One stood up and faced the Histess.  
  
“You talk in riddles, Argonian. Speak clearly. What do you mean? The Hist, whatever the hell they really are… they don’t speak to us!”  
  
The room went quiet when Ra’Jirra spoke up.  
  
“They speak to me.”  
  
The Histess nodded, and walked back towards her place.  
  
“It is time, Ra’Jirra. Let the Hist speak through you. I cannot understand them as well as you. You are needed now, Khajiitmother, favored of the Hist. Tell these what the Hist tell you. My role here is almost complete. It is your time.”  
  
“What does she mean?” Isdra demanded.  
  
“I… Two days ago I drank of Hist Sap, at the Hist’s request,” Ra’Jirra began. “Apparently it allows some sort of conduit to them, if they allow it. They have allowed it for me. I can talk to them, in a way.”  
  
“You?!” Number One stood. “Why you of all creatures?! What do they tell you?”  
  
The Histess interrupted before he could finish. “It is not for you to say who the Hist chooses to reveal themselves to,” she said, then turned a bit mirthful. “Besides,” she said, hefting her ample breasts tauntingly, “I wouldn’t let you near these pretty things!”  
  
Number One scowled in disgust, but Ra’Jirra had closed her eyes and was seeking that place in her mind where she met with the beings known as the Hist. They asked something of her then. At first, she recoiled, but then she reconsidered. They wanted to speak through her - to let her allow them to use her voice and the parts of her brain that controlled it and formed it into words. They had rescued her fiance from the Alfiq curse, after all. She relented, putting them off for one more moment.  
  
“I am going to be speaking for the Hist now, Mane. If you approve,” she said, allowing the leader of her race to decide.  
  
The Mane nodded, speaking for the first time at the conference table. “Please do, Ra’Jirra. What does the Hist have to say?”  
  
Then she released herself to the beings known collectively as the Hist, closing her eyes as she performed what she could best describe as a translation with no original language.  
  
“We are the Hist of Argonia,” she began. No change in tone could have been detected, because Ra’Jirra was still fully present. She felt she was just reciting lines in a play, but the words came from outside herself rather than text on a paper.  
  
“We bring you greetings, assembled Altmer, Dunmer and Khajiit. We have knowledge which you need now, in order to make this decision. You are afraid of the Humans. You are right to be afraid. The Humans wield much power, and will wield even more in the future as magic fades. The future of Nirn belongs to them.”  
  
Ra’Jirra heard the murmurings around her, but continued on.  
  
“However, not all here need fear for your own kind’s future. Nirn is not enough for all of the races as you grow. But there is more than Nirn. The Lilmothiit have left this world already, but their numbers were few. Yours are many. Your transport must be much more powerful than theirs.”  
  
Ra’Jirra felt weird, realizing that she was learning from her own words, while the gasps from the other attendees were audible around her. But she kept her eyes closed, continuing to translate.  
  
“For thousands of years we have been growing the vessel that can accomplish it. Thousands of years more must pass before it is fully grown. But the vision the Altmer have shown, while true, is not complete. In time they may be able to view more of the future, but even then it will not be enough - for they cannot view the entirety of the future. The have not seen the event wherein some races will be shepherded from Nirn to their new home. They have not seen the grieving that the Humans will wail when they are left alone on this world, for they are not to blame. A mother has left you races here to grow in this nest, but the nest cannot hold all of you forever. It is for this reason the Hist were sent here. We will help some of you fly from the nest. But not all.”  
  
Ra’Jirra opened her eyes, expecting some reaction from Number One, but all sat watching her as if transfixed by an Oracle. She continued…  
  
“The Argonians, our beloved race, must leave with us of course. Without us, they cannot hope to vie with the Humans or the other races, and our genetic modifications cannot transform them quickly enough into self-intelligent beings. But we have longed for others to join them. The Lilmothiit were a gentle people, but were being destroyed before we were able to help. They were natural to be the first fruits of our labor. They have gone ahead, and even now thrive on their own planet, not far from here, in a sense.”  
  
“The Khajiit, however, were too violent. Only with the recent advances in your civilization have we realized that you have become mild enough for you to join the Argonians when we depart. You will accompany us, via Khajiitmother’s offspring. Khajiitmother’s children, and their children’s children, will be our communication with the Khajiit-kind. When that time comes, as a chick knows when the nest has become too crowded, they will know it is time to leave. And they will join us in the Great Tree.”  
  
“So you just expect us to abandon the world for your Panacea?” Number One interrupted. “Just leave the whole of Nirn to the Humans on a promise of some other world?!”  
  
“No, Altmer,” Ra’Jirra said, looking directly at him. “You and your kind will remain with the Humans. For as long as you are able. But magic is fading, Altmer, and with it your precedence in the order of things on Nirn. Once you were the masters of this world. In the future, you will be slaves. Until you are no more.”  
  
Number One’s composure was shattered.  
  
“She lies. She’s making this up! How dreadfully convenient, Ra’Jirra, that it just so happens that you are the chosen of the Hist, isn’t it? You, who have thwarted the Dominion at every turn, just happen to be the same cat that magically can now talk to the Hist? You and that naked lizard over there made this whole thing up, didn’t you?! Why on earth would the Hist pick you? Of all the Khajiits, why you?”  
  
‘Because, Altmer,” said the Hist through Ra’Jirra, “she knows you best. She is the right person, at the right time and the right place.”  
  
Oddly, Number One sat back down, though his eyes still flared. Ra’Jirra felt more than saw the Histess rise from her seat while she continued translating…  
  
“She knows why you can never be taken. Some Mer may become gentle enough in time, but not the Altmer. You are too proud.”  
  
“Is she the only Khajiitmother then?” Number One asked, while whispering to the female Altmer to his right. “Is she to hold a privileged rank among the Khajiit as the herald of this new Hist-Khajiit race? Maybe you’d better think twice, Mane, before she usurps your position!”  
  
“She is enough. Generations will pass. Her posterity will be many. Some may rise to the rank of Mane, but they will remain wholly Khajiit. We will not cause a rift in a race we admire so.”  
  
The Histess was standing beside her now.  
  
“And now, Number One,” Ra’Jirra said, opening her eyes again. “Do what you must do.”  
  
She was no longer translating. Instead, the Hist had just provided her with their vision of the future in a flash. The immediate future. The outcome was unclear, but there was no time to act. She knew what was about to happen. She braced for impact.  
  
The magic users were on their feet, hands outstretched, and a powerful glow indicated an imminent release of power. She heard Isdra scream for the guards as the Prime Concubine fell over the Mane protectively. But the blast was already on its way and it’s target was Ra’Jirra’s unprotected breast.  
  
“Then die, Khajiitmother!”


	14. Chapter 14

She had just time enough to yell a reminder, “SILENCE WARD!” to Isdra before she was knocked to the floor. The guards wouldn’t be coming from the Prime Concubine’s scream alone.  
  
But when it came, the impact wasn’t from the direction of the Altmer. It had come from the Histess, who had barrelled her aside at the last second. She was knocked to the ground behind the Manes chair. The Mane was on the floor between the chairs now, wisely staying out of the line of sight.  
  
Ra’Jirra looked at where the Argonian lay, the blue glow still sparking around Quill-Weavels inert body, but she had no time at all to react to that. Isdra had left the Mane and was running towards the door as Ra’Jirra stood back up. The Dunmer was casting some spell of his own, but he seemed to be directing it at the two Altmer.  
  
The other two argonians were not idle either. Both were attacking the female Altmer who had actually cast the shock spell that had downed the Histess. Their full feral fury was unleashed on the doomed Altmer, but Number One’s hands were still glowing with unused power and she realized too late that he was just biding his time until she had risen.  
  
His eyes were focused on hers, and she saw a faint smile on his face. The screams of the Argonians as they pounced on his partner and her answering screams of horror drowned out his words, but she could read his lips.  
  
“Goodbye Ra’Jirra,”  
  
And then a blue beam even stronger than that which had downed Quill-Weave leaped from his hands and struck her full on the chest, instantly vaporizing a huge hole in the Raba as it threw her across the room - the once beautiful beads scattering as the symbolic Raba jewelry shattered. As she fainted from the blast, her last thoughts were of watching them skitter across the floor. They’d been so pretty.  
  
She should, by all rights, have been killed outright - not just knocked temporarily unconscious. But the skin-tight bodysuit she wore had held a small surprise of its own. On an intuition, she had spun a protection ward into it the previous night. The ward was a small thing - she was no mage - but she had been taught by mages when warding the Argonian embassy, and she didn’t forget.  
  
The ward shattered instantly upon impact of the powerful blast, but it hadn’t been made to last - just to deflect such attacks once. The bodysuit, along with her fur, remained intact. She awoke a few minutes later, clarity returning slowly. She tried to understand what had happened in the intervening moments while she’d been out, so she played dead while peeking through her eyelids. A commotion was happening on the far side of the room, but she didn’t see any threat immediately, so she crept back towards the table. The Mane was no longer visible, but she heard his commanding voice. In her dazed state, she couldn’t work out the words, but it didn’t sound like fear, and that had to be good.  
  
Quill-Weave still lay prone, and she feared the worst for her, but it would do little good to get herself killed after the Argonian’s self-sacrifice.  
  
Finally, when no immediate threat appeared, she risked a look around the side of the table.  
  
It took a moment to understand what she was seeing, but then clarity came. Number One and his Dunmer mage stood defiantly at the doorway, encased in a purple-hued transparent dome, obviously being maintained by the Dunmer. Khajiit guards, as well as the two bloody-mawed Argonians, threatened them at close range but could not penetrate the dome. Apparently Number One’s offensive magic couldn’t penetrate it either because he wasn’t wielding any. But the two were walking from the room haughtily, as if their lives weren’t in immediate peril should the dome be breached. Isdra was yelling at the Mane to get away from them, but he was apparently not paying her heed now.  
  
She thought for a moment of revealing herself to Number One - to let him know that she had not been killed, as he must suppose. But on reconsidering, she ducked back behind the table. The leader of the Aldmeri Dominion might well risk his own life to ensure her’s was ended. She’d seen his eyes filled with hate more powerful than any she’d seen before.  
  
She thought of Dar’Amon, then reflexively put her hand to her still flat belly and the womb within. There were people who loved her, and people she loved - not to mention people that had yet to be, that she would love too. No. That was a risk not worth the small reward. He would learn of her survival in time. Best to wait for them to be well gone from the palace - to be gone from the entire country. This was no time to be proud or heroic. She was the Khajitmother. She had more to consider now than a little pointless bravado.  
  
The commotion faded as the guards, the Mane and the rest left the area. But then the two Argonians returned and rounded the corner of the table to check on the fate of their sister.  
  
“KhajiitMother!!! You live?!!!” cried one of them before embracing her like an old friend.  
  
Ra’Jirra had to steel herself against the sight of the gore-covered Argonian’s approach. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know what it was that was stuck between two of her teeth, but she accepted the hug as graciously as she could.  
  
Her sister’s appearance was little better, but she knelt instead over Quill-Weave.  
  
“Sister… Ra’Jirra… the Histess still lives!”  
  
Ra’Jirra rushed to her and took Quill-Weave’s hand. She was no medical doctor, of course, but she could feel blood still flowing within the Histess’ veins.  
  
“I… don’t know much about Argonians. Is there anything I can do?”  
  
“Water. We must find water.”  
  
Ra’Jirra started for a glass on the table, but one of the sisters shook her head. “No. Much water. She needs to be immersed. It is our natural habitat. If she might live, it must be under water.”  
  
“Can you carry her? The Royal bath isn’t far.”  
  
“Yes, lead us there.”  
  
Ra’Jirra did so, not looking at the thing that was left on the floor behind her that had once been the Altmer woman. The Argonians could be shockingly bestial in their full wrath. Yet she knew that her kind could be just as bad when provoked severely enough. Number One would be lucky to make it to his ship alive. He’d better hope his Dunmer mage had a lot of reserve magic for the long walk back.  
  
A few minutes later, Ra’Jirra and the Argonians had carried the Histess into the Mane’s personal bath chamber and laid her in the center of his bath. This bath, however, was no single-person tub. In palatial style, it was more like a small swimming pool. The blood from the scales of the sisters turned the pool pink, but served to cleanse them from their grisly state while they laid their sister gently down to sink under the surface. It was odd, looking at the woman who had done so much for her, now lying motionless at the bottom of a pool, and not think of her as drowned.  
  
A guard came in belatedly, but she recognized him and explained quickly before he could bother the Argonians. She ignored the obvious distraction her bodysuit was causing him. Somehow, without the Raba around it signifying the office of Concubine, it was apparently much more stimulating. Sometimes males had such bad timing. She had no time for that now.  
  
“Guard! I’m up here! Where’s the Mane?” she demanded, turning back to the pool. All three Argonians were underwater now.  
  
“Nearly the entire palace and royalty have gone to the docks to run those murdering Altmer out of the country. I don’t think they’ll stop at the docks either. There’s talk of a warship to harass them all the way back to their homeland! Wait… But… they said they murdered you!”  
  
“Reports of my death have been somewhat exaggerated. They tried. Look, could you send someone after the Mane and let him know I’m okay? As for the Histess, she’s apparently in a bad way. If you can find anyone who knows anything about Argonian medicine, we could use help on that front too.”  
  
“I’ll do so, Lady Ra’Jirra,” the guard nodded and began to leave the room before she grabbed his tail as another thought struck her. He turned back around. “Yes?”  
  
“Oh… um… there’s another, a fellow Khajiit. My fiance. His name is Dar’Amon.”  
  
“The naked guy from the other day? Oh, I remember him.”  
  
“If you see him, let him know I’m okay too, would you?”  
  
“If I can recognize him, sure! I don’t suppose he’ll be naked?”  
  
Ra’Jirra frowned. “No. He won’t be naked!”  
  
“Oh… well… I just mean, that’s mostly what I remember about him.”  
  
“Oh, nevermind! And please hurry would you. Especially about that Argonian doctor.”  
  
As the guard left, something was nagging at her. Then she realized what it was. ‘Someone who knows about Argonians’. She knew someone who knew more about Argonians than the Argonians themselves. The Hist.  
  
She sat on a couch nearby and closed her eyes.


	15. Chapter 15

Sometime later, she opened them. She finally understood what the Hist were trying to explain. It was a mushroom. She didn’t know it’s name - plants were definitely not something she had ever paid much attention to, let alone mushrooms - but now it was the most important thing she could think of. She would need wheat too, but flour would do and there would be plenty of that in the kitchen. She ran from the room without saying anything to the sisters, who were still underwater anyway.

She ran out of the palace without a thought to the guards who watched her run past in her frankly scandalous bodysuit, or the stares of the strangers as she left the palace grounds. She almost didn’t recognize Dar when he shouted at her as she left the palace grounds. There would be no mushrooms there.

“Raj!!!” he screamed.

“Dar! I… Please, I need your help. I need to find something. It’s a mushroom. A very specific mushroom... “

Dar’Amon shifted gears quickly, fortunately. Ra’Jirra had to endure only a few seconds of impassioned kissing before he recovered his wits.

“Describe it,” he said once he’d verified she was alright.

She did so, as best she could.

“Sounds like blisterwort. Not really my field, but I did have a little training in alchemy. It usually can be found at the southern dark side of old rotted wooden buildings around here.”

Within a few minutes, they found some, and Ra’Jirra was happy to realize it was just what she had pictured. However, Dar’Amon wasn’t allowed back into the palace. In fact, she was lucky to have been recognized herself without her Raba, but the guard confessed he had seen her rush out, and the sight of her in her current state was not something easily forgotten.

She looked down at herself for a moment - clad only in the skintight bodysuit and still wet from the Royal Bath, she must have looked a sight. But she still had no time. The Histess may be dying and she could help. She ran back into the palace and to the large kitchen, where she muscled some cooks and helpers aside and found a mortar and pestle. She ground the blisterwort into a pulp and grabbed some flour as well and mixed it in, along with a good bit of water to make a thin syrup. The syrup was turning red as she watched, but she had no time.

She rushed back to the Mane’s bath, hearing voices from the front of the palace, but she didn’t stop to look. Instead, she found the three argonians still submerged. One of the sisters rose as she entered the bath and she hastily explained what she held. In a moment, they had pulled the Histess out of the water and opened her mouth unceremoniously before pouring the red syrup down her throat.

“What’ on earth is going on in here?” she heard from behind her, as she turned to see the Mane, Deviline and two guards enter.

“Ra’Jirra?!” the Mane said, finally recognizing her.

She strode from the bath, apologizing as rapidly as she could, when finally her bodysuit gave out. The snap from between her legs was unmistakable and the bodysuit’s tight grip across her body was suddenly loosened. Her fur stood on-end in embarrassment as she realized she was standing half naked in front of the two most powerful Khajiits on Nirn. Ceremonial nudity in a Raba was one thing, but this was quite another in the Khajiit system of propriety. In mid-sentence, trying to cover herself with the mortar and failing miserably, her composure shattered and she sank to the floor in tears, hiding her face in shame.

Devline grabbed a throw from a nearby couch and draped it over her her, lifting her easily and carrying her to the couch where he sat with her, assuring her. The Mane sat on the other side.

“Don’t be silly, Ra’Jirra,” he was saying. “You’ve nothing to be ashamed of.”

“He’s right, Raj,” Devline assured her, and she looked up at him, her eyes glistening with tears still. “We’re just happy to see you’re alive! As for seeing the rest of you too… well, it’s no big deal.”

“Well,” the Mane responded with a grin, “maybe not for you…”

A sound came from the bath as three reptilian heads rose from the water. The two sisters helped their stricken sibling to her feet. Suddenly all thoughts of embarrassment were banished as Ra’Jirra left the couch and back into the pool to hug the Histess.

“Ra’Jirra, give her some room to breath!” one of the sisters said, but with an accompanying laugh.

“Oh, no. You stay right here with me, Ra’Jirra. The Khajiitmother lives, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to turn away that embrace!” said Quill-Weave.

“Glad to see you getting better,” the Mane said, rising from the couch. “But if Isdra catches me in here with all this female flesh, she’s going to get jealous. Excuse me please, I’ve got to go take a cold shower.”

He left with the guards, but Ra’Jirra had to chuckle at the obvious evidence that he wasn’t overstating his reaction, as she helped Quill-Weave out of the bath.

\--------

Ra’Jirra sent word to Dar’Amon not to wait for her that night, but that she would meet him for the wedding the next day at high noon in the chapel. She stayed instead in a bedroom with the Histess and her sisters all afternoon and evening as the Argonian recovered. Shortly after the sun had set, the Mane and Isdra entered.

“You’re looking better,” the Mane said, taking a seat beside the bed with the Prime Concubine beside him.

Ra’Jirra sat on the bed beside her Argonian friend while her sisters lay beside the Histess.

“I’m still a little woozy,” Quill-Weave admitted, “but nothing that Ra’Jirra’s potion won’t cure in time. I suppose we will leave in the morning, if we can impose a bit longer.”

“Stay as long as you like,” Isdra said, and Ra’Jirra thought it was quite sincere. “You are always welcome in the Palace, Histess. But we’ve come to talk to both you and Ra’Jirra.”

“Oh? About what?”

The Mane took over the conversation, rising and beginning to pace the floor.

“We’ve been thinking about you, Ra’Jirra. You and your unique ability with the Hist that is. Though it’s unprecedented, you clearly cannot remain as a royal concubine. I’m afraid I must remove that royal title from you, through no fault of your own. But I think in the end you will understand that it simply isn’t an appropriate place for you.”

Ra’Jirra was not heartbroken as the Mane seemed to think she should be, but it would be rude to show just how not-heartbroken she was, so she kept quiet and just nodded.

“However, it’s more than that. Devline pointed out that the Dominion will soon find out you are still alive, if they haven’t already. They will know that this alliance of theirs is doomed so long as you are alive - and with you the promise of a future with the Argonians and the Hist - truly a future Elsewhere.”

“That’s probably so,” Quill-Weave agreed, placing a hand on Ra’Jirra’s shoulder.

Isdra picked up from the Mane, “To be blunt, Ra’Jirra, you’re going to be at the top of the Dominion’s hit list for some time to come. Even here at the heart of Elsweyr, we’re not sure we can protect you - especially not as long as you’re as high-profile as you have been.”

“So, what do you propose?” Ra’Jirra asked, turning back to the Mane.

“The logical solution, it seems to us,” Isdra started before the Mane finished for her.

“Ambassador to Argonia, Raj. Even if it won’t be for thousands of years, it sounds like we and the Argonians are going to be taking a long trip together someday. I think it’s time we begin to bond with our reptilian neighbors a little better.”

“Ambassador? What do you have in mind?”

“Honestly, I’d like to see more tourism between our two countries,” the Mane replied. “I’d like us to get to know the Argonians better, and the same for them. We’re always going to be very different, but I think we should begin allying ourselves with them. Together the tailed races of Tamriel can be a pretty powerful force.”

“Yes!,” Quill-Weave agreed cheerfully from her bed. “You are a wise Khajiit, Mane. While I am only a speaker for the Hist, I will talk to those on our high councils to see if perhaps we might do the same. It may be that the little embassy you built here in Torval might become occupied on a more permanent basis.”

“And who would be my contact back here?” Ra’Jirra asked, warming to the idea.

The Mane opened the door and Em stepped into the room.

“Welcome back, Ra’Jirra,” he said, and she jumped off the bed and hugged her ex-boss.

“Em! Am I to go back to the HMSS?!”

He pulled her away gently. “Not exactly, Raj. You are the Khajiitmother, after all, from what I hear. You will report to me. However, I won’t be your superior - you will be the Ambassador to Argonia. Though the rank is new, it is a higher rank than my own, I’ll just be your contact back here in Elsweyr. The Mane will be your direct superior.”

“Well, all this is awfully big news, but I certainly accept! Dar’s gonna be shocked, but I think he’ll be happy. Em, can he be assigned to Argonia with me?”

“Of course. I’ve already made the arrangements. After your honeymoon of course.”

“Oh! I’d forgotten about that.”

“I spoke with Dar about it already, Raj. You’ll be travelling incognito. You shouldn’t have any problem from the Dominion. And when you return, you’ll be off to Argonia.”


	16. Chapter 16

In the end, the wedding was a much less private affair than she’d expected. No longer a Concubine of the Mane, there was no need for secrecy. In fact, the little chapel had filled to overflowing with the Mane and all the other concubines in attendance, not to mention the security detail. The diminutive Priest of Mara looked fairly overwhelmed by the “little quiet ceremony” that he’d originally been asked to oversee.  
  
Outside the chapel, she stood nervously with Quill-Weave, while she heard some traditional Khajiit songs being sung within, and she knew the moment was fast approaching.  
  
“Oh Quill, I don’t know how to be a mate! I think I might have jumped into this too soon.”  
  
“Do you love him? Yes? Ra’Jirra, he’s proven his love for you enough in the last few days. These are just pre-matrimonial jitters. It happens to everyone.”  
  
Ra’Jirra looked down at her dress. She wasn’t sure it really should have been such a dazzling white, given her not-exactly-virginal past, but she had to admit it was gorgeous. There were some advantages of being a personal friend of the Mane that she couldn’t deny.  
  
“I suppose you’re right - but it’s different when it’s, you know… me.”  
  
“You’ll be fine. And don’t forget what I said about… you know. Trust me, it is the most efficacious position for fertility. You’ll be knocked up before you know it!”  
  
“Er… yeah. Thanks, I guess.”  
  
“Always worked for me. Feels pretty good too, I might add!”  
  
“Quill!? You’re a mother?” Ra’Jirra asked, astonished.  
  
“Why certainly! You don’t get Hist glands like this without some serious usage! You can come and meet my brood when you get back to Archon.”  
  
“I’ll do that…” Ra’Jirra started, when she heard the wedding march begin. She corrected herself, “...I mean. We’ll do that. I think it’s time.”  
  
“Alright. Go ahead sisters, we’ll be right behind you,” the Histess said, and her two sisters entered the chapel ahead of them.  
  
Ra’Jirra gulped hard, breathed in deeply and exhaled. She looked up into the eyes of the Histess for reassurance. The calm reptilian face kissed hers. And then they walked in together, Khajiit and Argonian.  
  
\------------------  
  
It was late afternoon when the ship sailed out of Torval. All had gone exceptionally well, all things considered. Ms. Ponsonby’s tears had been a bit unexpected, but Ra’Jirra had been pleased that Queue hadn’t felt too slighted that she had taken Quill-Weave as her Maid of Honor instead. If Ra’Jirra had been required to catch Dar’Amon when he nearly fainted at the altar, well - worse things had been known to happen at weddings.  
  
And now, at long last, they were alone in private.  
  
“So, how does it feel to be a married woman?” Dar’Amon asked as he stowed their luggage.  
  
“Actually, pretty good,” she replied, trying to get the flowers out of her hair. “So where are you taking me, my husband?”  
  
“Oh, you’ll find out in the morning… or, maybe early afternoon. I don’t plan to sleep a lot tonight.”  
  
She laughed and hugged him. “Nor I, stud! Now, can you help me out of this damned dress?”  
  
“I thought you’d never ask! Gods! How the hell does this thing open?”  
  
10 minutes later, he’d finally figured it out and she stepped out of the gown. Dar’Amon was much faster in removing her undergarments, pausing only as he kissed certain parts. As for himself, he was appropriately attired for their honeymoon in seconds.  
  
“So, Khajiitmother - ready to get started on your future clan?”  
  
“I see you certainly are! Quill-Weave suggested we, er… well… like this…” she said as she positioned herself appropriately on the bed.  
  
“Oh gods! Yes!” Dar’ Amon squeaked, and their honeymoon began in earnest while the ship rocked gently across the ocean outside.  
  
Hours later, exhausted and spent, she considered if she should crawl out from under her husband who had fallen asleep. But he felt good and she thought about her future. The Hist were still there, in the back of her mind, but quiet and dormant - as if knowing when not to intrude. So she stayed there a while, before finally sliding out from under Dar’Amon and padding quietly across the floor to don the flimsy concession to modesty that her nightgown afforded. Then she walked out to the deserted deck. Some sailors were, of course, still awake, and perhaps some might have eyed her appraisingly, but they left her in peace.  
  
She walked to the rail and looked at the moon over the waves behind the ship. The breeze was warm though, and felt good as it dried her overworked body. Wherever they were heading, at least it was warm.  
  
She turned around and looked up at the sails and the crow’s nest, far overhead, and thought of Ropes. Far above, she saw an Argonian sailor looking down at her. The sailor looked a lot like her dead friend, she realized. As if on queue, the sailor began singing a bawdy song, the words sometimes lost to the sea breeze and the distance to the crow’s nest, but she chuckled at the punchline and sang along quietly to the ribald chorus as she returned her focus to the sea behind her.  
  
Finally she returned quietly to her love-nest. She awoke Dar’Amon and they continued the night’s festivities before she finally slept herself, dreaming of her new life in Argonia with her amorous lover. It would, she decided, be glorious.  
  
Though it was late morning, they did manage to rise before noon.  
  
“Oh! Dar! I feel like I’ve been riding a horse for days!” she exclaimed when she stood up from the bed. “What did you do to me last night?”  
  
“Only everything!” he laughed, then groaned when he stood too.  
  
“Yeah, you too huh?”  
  
“I… might have sprained something,” he said.  
  
“I hope nothing too serious, we’ve got a lot more of that to do for the next month!”  
  
Dar’Amon grinned. “I’ll survive,” he said, and they dressed hastily.  
  
And then she opened the cabin door. She knew instantly where she was. The smell of Rihad was like nothing else in the world.  
  
“I found a couple of friends of yours!” Dar’Amon said happily while her mouth still gaped. “They told me how much you loved this city! Look, they’re waiting for us on the dock.”  
  
Below she saw Inspector Trudal and her former lover, Ko’Manir waving to them.  
  
“This is going to be a very, very interesting honeymoon,” she thought, but smiled broadly and stepped down the gangway into the stinking hellhole of Rihad.  
  
The End.


End file.
